


Quarrels of All Kinds

by Gryphonrhi



Series: Aidan-verse 1: Arrivals and Introductions [3]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Aidan-verse, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-07
Updated: 2010-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 65,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryphonrhi/pseuds/Gryphonrhi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A study in methods of stalking immortals, and the drawbacks. Or, how to hunt, whom to hunt, and how to cope with hunters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimers:** Joe Dawson, Duncan MacLeod, Connor MacLeod, Adam Pierson/Methos, and any other character or concept from Highlander: the Movie or The Series are the sole property of Rysher: Davis/Panzer Productions. They are used without permission and, Lady knows, certainly without any expectation of profit to myself other than the pleasure of writing. Any characters which do not look familiar from the Highlander universe (Aidan Logan and Dani St. Vir specifically but there are others) are mine.  
> **Rated: NC-17** for explicit m/f sex and for graphic depiction of violence.

Joe Dawson woke abruptly, disoriented and trying to figure out what had roused him. He'd only been asleep for -- he rolled over, looked at the clock and groaned at seeing 6:42 blink at him in digital red -- three-plus hours, what the hell? Maybe his temporary housemate, Aidan, had gone out? She frequently went running in the early hours before work, but she was always careful not to disturb him. She knew perfectly well what time he usually got home from closing the bar. As he ran his hands through greying hair, trying to bring his thoughts back into order, he heard something thud onto the floor.

Someone was definitely moving in his den. Joe reached for the rings over the bed, pulled himself up to a sitting position and strapped on his artificial legs, trying to be quiet. Fortunately the nightstand with the gun stood between the door and the bed. The Browning 9 mm held a full clip and one in the chamber ever since the trouble with Horton and his rogue Watchers a few years ago.

Associating with immortals could give anyone a complex but a Watcher, especially one who was friend to Duncan MacLeod, took his precautions seriously. He stayed in practice with that gun and kept it cleaned and oiled. The cane was solid walnut, well-seasoned, and nothing anyone wanted to have hitting them. Joe felt like a fool going into his own living room in a bathrobe with his cane and gun, but better a live fool....

Then he saw Aidan and the penny dropped. A duffel bag she normally kept in her truck sat on the floor just inside the den, and she had two bags of food on the kitchen counter. As he came in through the entryway, Joe appraised her clothes and came to an immediate conclusion: she had fought a Challenge this morning or would be fighting one very soon. Since he couldn't believe any immortal would grocery shop just before a duel, and they usually favored dawn or dusk to minimize the visibility of the quickenings...

She wore a pair of white hightops he hadn't seen before, jeans of a type he'd heard called 'relaxed-fit', and a forest green suede hunter's shirt with the leather patches at the elbows and the front of the shoulder. Her trenchcoat hung over the back of one of the chairs and he could just see the hilt of a saber or epee from where he stood. Dark brown hair hung down her back in one thick, slightly damp braid tied off at the waist with a bright gold ponytail holder.

As Aidan turned around to put the box of raisins in the pantry, she saw him and froze.

"What have you--"

"I didn't mean to--"

Both of them spoke at once after that slight hesitation, then they looked at each other and started to chuckle. Joe sagged into a chair, carefully put his gun on the table, and laughed until he nearly cried. When he could finally look up, the sight of Aidan pointing at his gun with a loaf of French bread, sputtering, set them both off again. Finally, though, the adrenaline washed out of both their systems, Joe pushed himself up and headed for the coffee pot. No way was he going back to sleep for a while now.

He reached for the coffee filters, pulled out the coffee can, and blinked to be sure he'd read it right. "Viennese Cinnamon? Aidan, where'd this come from?"

"I bought it this morning. I was hungry. Since I've been eating your food, I thought it was time I restocked the pantry." She stepped past him and put the raisins away, as well as some small bags of various types of nuts. Joe saw almonds, walnuts, and chestnuts sitting next to a box of currants that hadn't been there the last time he looked.

"You got up and went grocery shopping at 5:30 in the morning?" His skeptical tone brought her around quickly from the open refrigerator. She looked directly at him, no pretense in her manner, although that serious expression sat oddly on someone holding a pair of kiwis in one hand.

For a long time Aidan studied him, completely focused on him in a way that made Joe uneasy. Her whimsical side seemed as remote as Tibet, and he'd have bartered lease-share on his soul for that easy, amused chuckle of hers. At long last, just as the weight of the coffee can began to make itself known to his arm, she spoke.

"How much do you know about us, Joe?"

His mind raced, as he debated how to answer that. In a comment accidentally made the day before, Joe had admitted that he knew about immortal lifespans; should he admit to knowing about the challenges, the Gathering? Certainly he couldn't tell her about the Watchers. Even as he grabbed and discarded alternatives, his mouth opened. What came out surprised even him.

"I know you and Duncan both carry swords anywhere you go. And he once said he had tried to stay out of the Game, but it always seemed to find him again." Joe set the coffee back on the counter and pointed to her sword with his chin. "So what's going on that you were awake to hit a grocery store in the wee hours? Are you in trouble? And is it anything I can help with?"

She tilted her head, studying him, weighing facial and body language against inflections and tone. She turned back to the refrigerator, and continued filling it as she replied.

"No, if I were being stalked you'd have found a note thanking you for the hospitality with an assurance that I'd see you for setup. I loathe taking chances with other people's lives, but I try not to run out on obligations." She turned back, closing the refrigerator door. "However, are you truly telling me that you know nothing of the Gathering?"

Dawson was in the middle of filling the coffee maker with water, fortunately. By the time he turned around, he had decided he would not lie. He might not volunteer much, but he wasn't going to lie. "Aidan, I've had three hours of sleep, plus a little, and I'm not as youthful as some of my friends." He looked down his nose meaningfully. "I'm not dodging you, but I get some coffee and food first, woman, please!"

Finally, he heard that chuckle, and started to relax. "Fair enough. Sit down and I'll even make breakfast. Or had you figured out that I could cook?" She put a pitcher of cream on the table, and the sugar bowl. The two of them companionably discussed the band, business at his bar, and recent trends in music and literature while Aidan fixed breakfast. Before she was done, there was coffee, cantaloupe, almond-nutmeg muffins, and scrambled eggs with chives on the table.

Joe pushed back his plate, grinning, and refused another muffin with an outstretched hand. "Yeah, you can cook. How many times you been married?"

Aidan added some cream to her second mug of coffee and smiled. "What does the one have to do with the other? Or was that a polite inquiry into my age?"

"You just seem used to company in a kitchen, and I've always heard the way to a man's heart is through his stomach." He poured the last of the coffee into his cup, and settled back into his chair.

She replied automatically, "And up under the rib cage." Joe spluttered into his mug, only to realize she was joking. Come to think of it, he had seen that on a bumper sticker somewhere.... He set his fork down on his plate, pushed it out of the way, and resumed the earlier, postponed, discussion.

"Yeah, I know a bit about the Gathering. Mac mentioned it once or twice. You all fight each other, right? That's why you asked about dojos when you first hit town, isn't it?"

"Yes, we duel when necessary. Sometimes it's personal, sometimes it's just a youngster wanting fame and glory, much like the Old West gunslingers or the Old World duelists." Remote sorrows etched her voice as she said, "But you can't always tell with us how old someone is. If you aren't careful, you can get in well over your head without knowing it -- or slay an innocent."

"And which did you do?" Joe kept his voice gentle as he asked it.

"Oh, both at different times." She smiled sadly, grey eyes watching old phantasms. "You learn to forgive yourself eventually. Had I been more skilled, I'd have let a couple live who died -- but their teachers set them on me, thinking I was an easy mark." She shrugged. "When I realized what had happened, I killed the teachers as well for misusing their power over their students."

Joe paused, then nodded, remembering guilts and regrets of his own. "Yeah, in 'Nam we torched this village. They had sent their kids into our camps with bayonets. We killed eight and ten year olds. Couldn't help it, we'd been in combat zones for months, and they came at us with guns... The kids haunted my sleep for months when I got home. I'm kinda sorry about the parents, but not nearly as much."

Aidan traded a rueful smile with him. "Yes, you do know what I mean, then. Why did you ask me if I was in trouble this morning?"

Joe looked scornfully at her. "I'm tired and I'm gettin' old, but I'm not stupid, Aidan. You show up in my kitchen, quarter of seven in the morning, too tired or upset to catfoot around the house like normal, wearin' clothes you can fight in, and I shouldn't wonder if you're in trouble? C'mon, lady, you're not usually slow."

"No, indeed. These were the only clean clothes I had available this morning. I had intended to go change before you woke up, but..." Aidan waved a hand toward his gun, and laughed. "Best laid plans and all that."

"Clean clothes? Did you have a fight this morning?" He probed carefully, trying to sound like a curious friend. He could always fall back on his bartender background and claim that he had long habits of asking personal questions.

"Not exactly. It was more of an object lesson." She sighed and stretched her arms up over her head, pulling until Joe could hear vertebrae popping. "But if it doesn't sink in, I'll have to kill her."

"You don't strike me as the type to play judge, jury, and executioner. What's this woman done?" Joe quickly ran through female immortals in his mind; hell, the only immortals in town that he knew of were Aidan, Duncan, and... Cassandra? "You didn't kill her then?"

"No, I didn't. And she has...." Aidan paused, visibly searching for the right words. "Joe, if she had simply abused what we are, threatened to expose us, been fool enough to do things like heal herself in public -- then any of us would hunt her down. But it's more and less than that. She has... certain abilities -- powers, for lack of a better term -- which are unusual even for us. And she's misused them to coerce people. Raping souls is not too extreme an analogy."

"What?! What the hell has Cassandra done now?!" Joe stormed up out of the chair, pacing and swearing in the kitchen. "Trouble-making woman, not worth half of Adam, hell not worth a thousandth of him.... God damn it, what has she gotten Mac into this time? I'm gonna beat her within an inch of her immortal life and then start over! I'll cut her hair off, hide her sword, make sure every immortal in the world thinks she's some half-century old baby.... Maybe I'll put out word that she's Methos!"

Aidan moved back in her chair, wide-eyed and startled at Joe's unexpected temper. When he began to calm down, she used her mildest tones to say, "Most people resort to profanity, badly. You come up with some truly innovative threats. I don't suppose you're Irish?"

He came stiffly to a halt, cane in midair, then lowered it. "Is there more coffee?"

"I don't think you need it, but I'll make some anyway. Best invention in the last fifteen hundred years. Cream and sugar this time?" She picked up the pot and moved to the sink.

"Yeah, please. What did she do, damn it?" He began to tidy the dishes, absently rinsing them and putting them in the dishwasher. He continued to mutter the occasional sotto voce threat, and Aidan chuckled at one of them.

"No, Joe, we couldn't be so lucky as to have her get a tattoo such as that...." Although the thought of putting a dotted line on Cassandra's throat with half a pair of scissors showing appealed immensely. As the coffee brewed, Aidan looked around for a bowl to put the leftover muffins in. "And she was trying to beguile Duncan into fighting Methos. I took exception, both to her actions and her goal."

"SHE WHAT?!? God damn her, except He wouldn't touch her, she might be contagious."

"Joe."

He turned around, and put a hand out in time to catch the mug.

"Would I have taken time to make you breakfast were that a problem?" Aidan tilted her head and looked at him with those unruffled grey eyes and Joe sat down, holding his coffee.

"No, you wouldn't have." He sat down and deliberately took a couple swallows of the coffee. Both of them were silent for a long minute while he calmed himself.

"Aidan. Breakfast was wonderful, thank you for cooking. But can I ask you a question before I go call Mike about switching shifts today?" He sounded abnormally calm, as if he had just moved right over the precipice of a major decision without shifting gears down. Aidan remembered, queasily, the way rock hummed and sang right before the avalanche tore away from the mountainside that one time.... She had ended up with a broken back, paralyzed and in agony for two days, wondering if immortals healed from this. His tone of voice was affecting her the same way, somehow. Ominous from something as ephemeral as a mortal blues player.

"Ask away."

"Who are you protecting, Mac or Methos?" His eyes met hers, implacably steady. The idea of lying to him or evading the question terrified her at that moment.

"Both of them. I don't know who would win, but the loser would be better off. The survivor would hate himself and go find some way to lose his head." She knew this the way she knew her own name and true nature, just from watching Duncan's reactions and what he didn't quite say. Aidan met Joe's eyes and let him read the truth there.

"I know you and Mac have become friends, but why are you protecting Methos like this?" Still that precariously quiet voice.

"Do you know him? I have to be sure, Joe, before I can answer that."

"Yes, I know Methos. He's a good friend, as good as he can afford to be with a mortal who's going to die and leave him. And no, I don't blame you all for that." Joe waited for her answer, with a surface stillness that hinted of forces in motion far below, deceptive as California countryside ten minutes before a tremor. He watched Aidan's face, those clear-seeing grey eyes closed for the moment, the skin paler than ever, making her hair look almost black.

She swallowed a couple times from what he'd swear was sheer nerves. When she looked back up, though, her decision was made. "I protect Methos because he protected me. He was my first teacher, and my traveling companion for decades after that. He is the best friend I have."

The phone rang into the silence after her statement. Joe stared at the kitchen clock; someone was calling him at 7:30 in the morning? He did not need this right now.... On the second ring, Aidan passed it to him.

"Dawson."

From the other end of the line he heard Justine, Cassandra's Watcher, asking, "Why weren't you answering your cellular?"

"Because it's upstairs next to the bed. Why?"

"You mean you weren't watching MacLeod this morning? Damn, both of us missed this! Unless you had Mike on him?" Joe could tell she very badly wanted that last statement to be true.

"No, I was just about to call him. What happened?" He managed to ask the question in a calm, reasonable tone of voice, although he already knew the answer. Joe had already decided to protect Aidan from the other Watchers, for more reasons than he wanted to consider. He'd continue keeping his own records of her and the other Watchers could find out about her from his journals after he died -- maybe.

"Cassandra just came back into the hotel, I don't know when she left. She never gets up this early, Dawson! From the look on her face, someone challenged her and I'd say she lost, but she still has her head. MacLeod dropped her off at the door, so I was really hoping you knew what had happened." The other Watcher sounded really agitated; no surprise, this was one of their worst nightmares. Losing your subject entirely, and never finding out if he/she had vanished or died led the list, but missing something this important came in a close second.

"No such luck, damn it. And it's exactly the sort of thing we don't talk about, not after Horton and Shapiro. Look, if I find out anything, I'll call you back. Good luck on your end." Joe hoped she would take his brusque, oblique answers as a hint that he wasn't alone.

"Dawson, what.... Is there someone with you?" At first her voice held annoyance at his answer, then he could hear her embarrassment as she realized that he did have a personal life, and she might have interrupted something important.

"Yes, we were just getting breakfast."

Aidan grinned at the social lie. She could only hear Joe's side of the conversation, but it had been amusing, and just the distraction she had needed from her concerns about Methos and Duncan.

"Later." Joe hung up the phone and looked over at his temporary housemate. "Sorry about that."

"De nada, Joe. Everything all right?"

Joe's mind ran furiously through times, time zones, and plane schedules. He immediately replied, "Yeah, mostly. Can I ask a favor?"

Aidan rolled her eyes, fond exasperation in her voice as she replied, "How many do I owe you now? What is it?"

"Can you help out tomorrow afternoon? I know you're trying to get your new place in order, but I'm going to be shorthanded until five or so."

"Certainly. It's little enough compared to what you've done for me. But will you forgive me if I go get a real shower and some sleep before setup?"

Joe noticed with some surprise how tired she looked. Damn, had she even slept last night?

"Not a problem. I'm going to finish up in here, then make a couple phone calls and get a little more rest myself. Sleep well, Aidan." He was already putting the last dishes in the dishwasher, his mind racing over the fax he needed to write.

Joe watched as Aidan picked up the bag still on the counter, slung her duffel bag over her shoulder, and headed to the back of the house. Why a small container of baby wipes and a quart of bottled water? Then he remembered clean clothes and damp hair braided back. One of these days he had to find a way to inventory her duffel bag. It ought to be very revealing indeed! And Methos called Mac a Boy Scout?

Joe piddled about in the kitchen until he heard the shower running, then headed for his study. Working quickly, he typed up a fax cover letter; his handwriting wasn't always the best and this needed to be clear. While it was printing out, Joe dug around in some of his most recent pictures of Mac. Now where was that one? Grinning with satisfaction, he looked down at the photo and nodded cheerfully. This should draw exactly the reaction he wanted.

His Watcher oath very clearly said he shouldn't interfere with his immortal subject. Joe had once again not so much decided to ignore that rule as lock it away in a safe deposit box -- and throw the key out the window. This fight between Methos and Duncan was about to end, one way or another. He had great faith that Aidan wouldn't allow it go on, all Joe had to do was put all three of them in one place and lock the doors....

Joe looked at his watch. 7:40 AM in Seacouver, three more hours to get New York time, then six for Paris, less an hour back for daylight savings time -- 3:40 PM, Methos should still be in the bookstore, no problem. Dawson picked up his phone and hit the speed dial.

A female voice answered the phone on the third ring. "Bonjour. Shakespeare et Compagnie."

"Adam Pierson, s'il vous plait."

"Une minute." The phone was set down and Joe heard footsteps retreating. After a minute or so, the phone was picked up again.

"Bonjour." This time Joe knew the voice, that light, mocking baritone he'd heard at all hours of the night in his living room or in jazz clubs on two continents.

"Adam, it's Joe. Since when do women answer your work phone, old friend?"

"Joe, how are you? And I was up on a ladder fetching down a folio for her; she's a customer. What are you doing up so early? It's got to be well before ten there, and you loathe mornings as much as I do." There was a short pause, then Methos went on, "Or is MacLeod in trouble again? If he is, you might do better to try to get Amanda. Maybe Connor. He's barely speaking to me, at the moment."

"I need you for this, Adam. It may not be trouble, but I want your opinion. I can't get in touch with those two at the moment." _Very true, I'm on the phone with you._ "Look, can you switch the line over to the fax? I've got to be out running errands all day," _Hell, yes, time to catch up on anything that keeps me away from a phone_, "but I want you to look at this and start turning it over in your mind. I'll call back around midnight your time if that's okay, see what you think."

Again the pause on the other end of the line, longer than even trans-Atlantic service could account for. Methos finally sighed and said, "As soon as I hang up, I'll switch over. Give it a minute for the fax to warm up, though. How bad is this? Can you give me any details?"

"I'd rather not, I want to get your first reaction. Like I said, I don't know that it's bad, but the whole situation.... I'm willing to pay the costs for faxing it over, okay?" Joe mentally prayed for his luck to hold. So far, he had not uttered a single lie, which had taken some careful work. Funny part was that Methos would undoubtedly be amused by all of this later on, master manipulator that he was.

"All right, send it over, I'll expect your call at home by midnight. That's what, 3 PM your time?"

Joe let out his sigh of relief, and said, "No, 4 PM, we're already on Daylight Savings Time over here. Thanks, buddy. I'll talk to you this afternoon. Oh, I stocked in a few cases of your favorite beer last week, when are you coming over again? That jazz combo you wanted to hear is coming in next weekend."

"Oh, sometime again. Business has been good, so we'll see. Speaking of which, I need to ring this lady up, Joe. I'm putting it over to fax now. Talk to you tonight." Methos hung up without waiting for a goodbye.

That suited Joe just fine. _I may see you sooner than you think, Methos._

He looked down at the fax cover letter, and resolved to be unavailable to his phone for eight or ten hours. That was more than enough time to get Methos moving.... Joe started the fax and moved around the house turning off the ringers on the other phones. He turned off the answering machine, leaving a phone bill where it would obscure the power light. After he had turned it off, the cellular phone went in the nightstand drawer next to the gun.

Joe grabbed a shower and pulled on clothes, then glanced in on Aidan. He opened the door very carefully, not wanting to disturb her, and realized she'd been exhausted indeed. She had fallen soundly asleep on top of the bed, still wearing her bathrobe, hair wrapped in a towel. But he could see that the alarm was on, her sword lying next to the bed. _Saber? Damn, and a main-gauche next to it! I can't wait until she spars with Mac, I gotta see this!_ The duffel bag, full again, lay next to the door -- presumably to go back in the truck.

On his way to the back door, Joe remembered one more call he needed to make: Mike, his second bartender who was also a Watcher.

"Mike? Joe. Sorry to call so early, but can you cover the bar for me until around 5 or so? I'll take the late shift again tonight. Uh-huh, thanks, I appreciate it. Oh, Pierson may be trying to get in touch with me. If he does, you don't know when I'll be in, but you're not expecting me until at least 5. Got it? No, it's nothing you want to know about. Just repaying a practical joke. Yeah, thanks again, I'll see you this evening."

As he headed out, Joe laughed when he realized he was whistling 'Only the Good Die Young'. Determined not to see anyone he knew until at least 5 PM, he drove off to do some overdue shopping, errand-running, and goofing off. Stationery, new journals, some wine and beer for the house, probably time to stock in plenty of food.... What could he get Aidan as a house-warming gift? Might be a good day to catch a movie, too, there were a couple he'd been wanting to see.

* * * *

7:52 AM Seacouver/3:52 PM Paris - Wednesday

The fax went out over the wires, the first page printing out on the other fax machine quite quickly since it was only text. The second page, Methos noted absently, was printing incredibly slowly... ah, a black and white photo. Damn, that would take forever; hell of a thing for Joe to do to his phone bill. And it was going to make it difficult for any other customers to call in. Well, he'd look at it in half an hour or so, might as well wait until he had the entire message.

* * * *

10:40 AM Seacouver/6:40 PM Paris - Wednesday

Now that she had a door key, Aidan came in any time she liked to set up the bar. Something had woken her from her brief nap, possibly Joe's car leaving, and she had given up and gone in to work. Setup had taken just under an hour, in large part because she had postponed some of the cleaning projects she'd originally had in mind for today. No one else had any idea that the baseboards were on her 'must clean' list, therefore they could wait until a day when she'd had more than 3 hours of sleep spread over two naps.

Aidan smiled and waved at Mike as she headed to the door; in the background, Led Zeppelin was playing some down and dirty delta blues. "I've programmed another couple hours worth of music for you, Mike, enjoy!"

"What's on today's play list, Aidan?" Mike grinned at the fast-moving young woman. He didn't have much say in who Joe hired, but he liked this new one. Watching her terrorize the band yesterday had been a memorable experience, and he'd found himself making notes on some of the turns of phrase and tone of voice. His Marine DI could have taken lessons. Besides, these days the bar was always restocked when he came in, or had a warning list of bottles running low written in the same order as the inventory sheet. Whatever Joe was paying her, she was worth it.

"Let me see: Fleetwood Mac, Adam Ant, Paul Simon, Queen, more Zeppelin, some of Plant's solo works, Prince, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Eagles, Styx, and Eurythmics. That's what I can remember anyway. I was in an '80s mood this morning, but I threw in some classic rock to even it out for you." She slung her coat on, and rolled her head to release some of the tension, then gave up. "Oh, here's the jukebox key. Will you have Joe mark down an hour this morning, rather than my usual two? I fear that I'm in something of a hurry today."

Mike caught the key out of the air, and hung it on the usual hook under the bar. "No problem, Aidan, everything looks as good as ever. Thanks for setting up the music. I liked the '80s, although I hear that's heresy to admit." The only reply he heard was laughter as she vanished out the door and the jukebox clicking over to Fleetwood Mac.

* * * *

11:12 AM Seacouver/7:12 PM Paris - Wednesday

Methos resurfaced from the rare edition copy of _Roman de la Rose_ and realized that it was more than time to shut down the shop for the day. He hadn't had so much as a browsing passerby in at least.... Glancing at his watch he realized it had been peaceful for an hour and he was later than usual in closing up. A good night to catch dinner and some wine at one of the sidewalk cafes, admire the passers-by, maybe log on to the 'Net. Then he remembered his conversation with Joe Dawson earlier and the promise.

"Good Lord, no wonder it's been quiet. Anyone who called got the fax tone." The words echoed back from the windows in the empty bookstore, and the last light of sunset streamed in with the glow of the newly lit streetlamps. Methos shrugged to himself and went to lock the front door. Oh, well, they'd call again if it he was their last chance. Given the nature of the rare book business, he wasn't terribly worried.

Automatically he switched the phone jack from the fax to the phone as he put aside his hopes for a peaceful evening. The call had been relatively innocuous, Joe had said he didn't think this was trouble, and it couldn't be that bad if the Watcher had gone off to run errands before calling back. On the other hand, Joe's instincts were worth heeding. And that was an expensive fax, what with overseas rates.

Over the centuries, Methos had learned not to worry about things any more than he had to. He'd take the fax home with him, and see what Joe had sent him after dinner. It could wait until then. If he had to go looking through his own journals for an answer, he might as well wait until he could get to them. Folding the fax pages in half, he dropped them into his trenchcoat pocket. Reflexively Methos touched the hilt of his sword, verifying that it was where it should be, then stuck his hands in his pockets and walked out into the streets already debating what to have for dinner.

* * * *

12:18 PM Seacouver/8:18 PM Paris - Wednesday

Aidan parked in front of her new home, unlocked the back of the truck, and hefted out the industrial sander she had rented for the next few days. Flipping the back of the truck into place again, she took the machinery in and put it on the floor of the freight elevator. Over successive trips she also unloaded extension cords, sandpaper belts, plastic safety goggles, a package of breathing masks, a set of bandanas, sturdy work gloves, a broom, a whiskbroom and dustpan set, trashbags, a corrugated steel trashcan, toilet paper, a plastic cup with a lid, a five gallon cooler filled with ice water, and her tool box. She locked the truck up and took all the gear up to fourth floor. Might as well start at the top and work her way down.

Aidan appraised the floor with an experienced eye. Four holes would have to be cut on each of the top three floors for the heating vents she wanted to install. All the small debris and detritus on the floor had to come up before she could use the sander, which meant sweeping and probably vice grips. But she might still get the top floor sanded and swept today if she got to work immediately. Hunger would remind her to quit and meet Duncan at Joe's later on.

Hands on her hips, she looked around. The windows were filthy, the floors barely better. Smoke had stained the walls and darkened the beams on the ceiling. But with the transoms opened for the breeze, the air was fresh and the gleam of sunlight threw a glow over the room. Aidan had restored worse and this had a great deal of promise. With a proper refinishing and some cleaning, no one would recognize the place. Content at the prospect, she rolled up her sleeves, tied the bandana over her hair and began.

* * * *

12:30 PM Seacouver/8:30 PM Paris - Wednesday

Replete with bouillabaisse and wine, Methos unlocked his apartment door and headed to the kitchen to make some coffee. Slinging his overcoat on the peg by the door, he settled his sword next to the bed, kicked off his shoes, and made it back into the kitchen just as the percolator finished. Once he had properly doctored a mug of the hot caffeine, he settled into a chair at the table with the fax. Now, what had Joe sent him this time?

The top page was simple enough. In nice large letters the message read, 'Adam, new resident of Seacouver. Arrived last week from the East Coast. Don't suppose she's an old acquaintance of yours? Call you later.' That much had been typed, and the scrawl Joe used in place of a signature took up a good bit of the remaining space on the page.

"Old acquaintance, hmm? And 'she'. Why don't you just ask MacLeod if she's immortal or not, Joe? Or is his chivalry in full gear again? Couldn't give me a name, could you. Makes sense if she's one of us, I suppose. Gods only know what names I might know her by and you've been so careful not to 'bias' me on this.... Well, let's see what this plague-carrier looks like."

Still muttering quietly to himself, Methos turned to the next page and dropped his coffee on the floor. He never noticed as the scalding liquid splashed his leg and the pieces of pottery scattered across the floor.

"Sweet Goddess, this can't be right."

Even across the fax, it was a good picture. MacLeod stood outside his gymnasium wearing a t-shirt and jeans, hair pulled back into a ponytail as usual. He was studying a newspaper spread open across the hood of the T-bird, still smiling from something his companion had said. The convertible top of the car was down, must have been one of those rare, nice days in Seacouver.

Standing next to him, though, was a ghost. The woman pointing to something in the paper, caught in the middle of a word, had died in the early 1600s in Budapest. The Kurgan had taken her head... hadn't he?

Methos studied the picture intently, wanting to be right about who she was as badly as he had wanted to be wrong three centuries ago about whose quickening had been taken. As he continued to look, incandescent joy rose up in him. The face was the same, the familiar quirk to the eyebrows and tilt of the head. He recognized the set of her shoulders, knew from the positioning of their bodies that she was already fond of Duncan. And there was the oak leaf pendant he had made for her centuries ago. Had her hair been that short in the 1500s? He spoke out loud without realizing it. "Edana."

Methos reached without looking for the phone, not caring what time it was in the States. Joe could bloody well answer the phone. No one answered, though, not at the house or on the cellular line.

"Damn it, this is not funny, Dawson. Of all the days to forget your portable...." Still cursing to himself, he called the bar. Maybe Joe had already gone in.

"Joe's, this is Mike, can I help you?" The tone of voice was cheerful if harried. Apparently the bar was hopping. Methos couldn't have cared less.

"Mike, this is Adam Pierson. Is Joe in?"

"Hey, Adam, no, he isn't. He won't be in until 5 or so. Want me to give him a message or have him call you back?" In the background, Methos heard a familiar song: the Eurythmics playing 'Who's That Girl?' Astonishingly appropriate, that.

"That depends, Mike, what time is it there? I can't keep track with Daylight conversions thrown into the mix." Somehow he kept his voice calm. There could be plenty of reasons he hadn't gotten either Joe's answering machine or the cellular.

"12:40, give or take a few minutes, Adam. Oh, hell, you're in Paris, aren't you? It's just after noon, how's that?"

"In that case, Mike, just give him a message for me, thanks. Tell him I'll be in town tomorrow, and not to worry." Already, Adam had started planning what to pack, what route to take, and who would be able to get him a ticket at such late notice. Orly to Heathrow to La Guardia to Seacouver might be simplest.... Maybe route through Boston instead?

"Will do, Adam. Does he know what he isn't supposed to worry about? Just a sec, Carla, on that order...."

"Yes, he does. Oh, and Mike? The answering machine at his place didn't pick up, and he's not answering his cell phone. Thought you might want to know. I'll see you tomorrow."

Just as he was about to hang up, he heard Mike say, "Adam? You there?"

"Yes, I'm here, for a little while."

"We'll find him if he doesn't show. See you tomorrow."

Methos promptly called one of the few all-night travel agencies, and booked flights out to the US, wincing at when he'd have to leave in the morning. But he smiled the entire time he cleaned up the coffee and packed. He was still smiling as he fell asleep.

* * * *

4:48 PM Seacouver/12:48 AM Paris - Wednesday/Thursday

"Joe? Pierson called, said to tell you he'll see you tomorrow." Mike considered the grin on Joe's face proof that he never wanted to get on his boss's bad side. Senior Watchers, the good ones at least, always seemed to combine a high skill at understanding people with a broad and specific knowledge of history. In other words, not only did they know a lot of truly horrific practical jokes, they could guess exactly which one you were most likely to fall for.

"Good, good, means I don't need to call him tonight. Great. Mike, how would you like to take tomorrow off?"

Mike shrugged. "Hadn't planned on being in today, it would even out. Who's going to cover the afternoon shift?"

"Aidan said she'd help out until five or so. We can manage it, no problem." Joe moved behind the bar, automatically greeting familiar customers and glancing at the band equipment to make sure nothing had been disturbed.

"She tends bar? Why am I not surprised. Joe, keep this one, hmm? She does good work." Mike waved to acknowledge an order; the after-work crowd kept the two of them busy for the next few hours. He did not want to know what Joe was up to; he wanted to be able to swear to it when Pierson or MacLeod asked....

* * * *

12:40 AM Seacouver/7:40 AM London - Thursday

Methos settled more comfortably into his chair, enjoying the luxury of having room to stretch out his legs for once. At such short notice, he'd had to buy first class tickets; on the other hand, he didn't mind the extra cost on an eight hour flight. Getting up at 4:30 in Paris to make the 6:00 flight to London had been rough, as he considered mornings something to sleep through. Ah, well, he'd long ago perfected sleeping on airplanes. Rest was essential to survival, therefore he could doze anywhere.

Besides, he had better sleep now; American tourists had an irritating tendency to assume one wanted conversation, or, worse yet, that one earnestly desired to see grandchild pictures, ad nauseam. But the flight from London to New York should be manageable enough; British reserve could be useful on occasion. Soon enough he'd see Edana, and MacLeod too, probably. Hell, maybe the Highlander was talking to him by now.... His imagination conjured her dryly amused voice asking him where he saw the pigs migrating north for the summer, and he realized he was looking out the window to check. Chuckling softly, Methos adjusted his legs, leaned sideways into his chair, and was asleep before the flight had been half an hour in the air.

* * * *

1:00 AM Seacouver/9:00 AM Munich - Thursday

Aidan hung up the phone and made a notation in her new checkbook. "There. That covers expenses, renovation, and Cheop's Corollary for the next few months. Well, it will as soon as the transfer goes through in the morning."

Joe turned around from ringing out the register. "What language was that, anyway? German? Is my phone bill shot?"

"Of course not, Joe, that's why I have calling cards. And yes, it was German, I pulled some money from one of my old accounts in Munich. The mortgage company needs my cash from New York to stay constant for another week or so to clear the house, but I have purchases to make at the hardware companies." She shrugged and threw Duncan another rag. "You get the booths, Duncan, and I'll get the tables."

MacLeod grinned at Joe. "Bad enough that you keep talking me into things like this, now she's helping! Oh, well. Is Cheop's Corollary the one that says if the government built a mousetrap it would get a lobster trap big enough for an elephant?" He moved away and started clearing off the booths.

"Cheop's Corollary to Murphy's Law, Duncan -- it says nothing is ever built on time or within budget. I have this vague hope that blowing the budget will evade the time problem." Aidan cleaned her way across the tables quickly and efficiently. She ignored crumbs that hit the floor, knowing she'd simply sweep them up in the morning, which she pointed out to the Scot.

"You in a hurry to move out, Aidan?" Joe growled in mock indignation.

Aidan stiffened slightly then immediately relaxed, rubbing her back and glaring at Duncan. "Had to dance me into the ground tonight, didn't you?"

Finished with the tables, Aidan looked over at her boss and temporary landlord. "I just want my music back, Joe, which won't happen until I move, more's the pity. As may be, I need to do a few hours of prep work at my house before I come in for the afternoon. I'll see you back at the house; or more accurately, hear you.

"Duncan, thank you for everything today, but has anyone ever told you that a tango like that one tonight can get a man married at gun point? Or do they still do that these days?"

Duncan swatted her on the rump. "I saw that when Joe played 'You Can Leave Your Hat On.' Do you know how many guys bought beers to cool off when you were through?"

Aidan threw him a wicked smile. "If the answer isn't 'all of them', I did something wrong. I shall have to practice. However, good morning, you two, I'm going to get some sleep."

Duncan waited until the door closed then looked at Joe. "Is it just me, or did that question about moving hit a sensitive spot?"

Joe's gaze focused on nothing, his eyes disturbed. "I don't remember her back hurting any other time tonight. So what happened with Cassandra this morning?"

Duncan turned to look at his friend. "I didn't see any Watchers and I looked. How did you find out about that?"

"Aidan made a little too much noise coming in this morning. And before you ask, I'm keeping some information about her in my private journals, but the Watchers don't know about her yet. Been thinking about making you or Adam my executor, just to make sure the Watchers don't get everything. I'm considering some long-range plans to make sure nothing like Jakob and Irene Galati ever happens again." Joe's grim expression told Duncan not to ask just yet.

"About Cassandra, though? Her Watcher missed the fight, by the way. We don't officially have any idea who did what this morning, or why."

"Cassandra headed out of town this afternoon. She won't be back any time soon. She's terrified of Aidan now." Duncan shook his head slowly. "I've never seen anything quite like that. Not even a cat and mouse game, really; Aidan never played with her. She took Cassandra down before either of us could get any feel for her style, then laid out terms. Joe, she unnerved me, and I wasn't the one with my throat under her blades."

"She had her sword at Cassandra's throat?" Joe's eyes widened, trying to picture this.

"Cassandra was flat on her back, sword arm broken, left knee dislocated, with Aidan's dagger and saber crossed over her throat. Aidan had a knee in her gut, holding her down." Duncan shook his head as he remembered the scene. "Methos and I are out of Cassandra's debt; we're the only reason Aidan let her live. But, Joe -- Aidan did this fighting left-handed. The entire thing, including compelling Cassandra's oath, took maybe fifteen minutes. Left-handed."

Joe shook his head slowly. "Meaning Cassandra has no idea that Aidan is actually right-handed? Mac, how old is she? She said this morning that Methos taught her. I didn't think he'd trained a student in centuries. What you're telling me does not sound like any new immortal. You're talking about guile, planning, and ruthlessness that only the older immortals generally pull off."

"Joe, she was one of his first students after he left the Horsemen. She's not less than a thousand. Get a drink before you ask her for the precise number. It's... surprising.

"Speaking of Methos, any idea when he's coming to town?" Duncan deliberately threw off the images from the morning and changed the subject slightly.

"Sometime again, he said. You know him. Why? You speaking to him again?" Joe's mild sarcasm brought a flush to Duncan's face.

"Actually, I was planning a fairly lengthy apology."

"'Bout damn time. Good for you! What brought this on?"

"I'll tell you if he accepts it. If he doesn't accept it, I'll still come tell you and we'll hash out a new plan to put things back together. Deal?" MacLeod held out a hand.

Joe shook with him, feeling only mildly guilty at deceiving Mac about when Adam would be in. "Deal. I'll even buy the drinks for this. You've been a bastard to deal with ever since you two had that fight. I'm glad you're going to patch things up." He looked around, appraising the bar. Everything that had to be done was finished, and Aidan would get the rest when she opened up tomorrow morning.

"Let's lock up; don't you have finals tomorrow?"

"No, I had finals today. I have to get the grades in by noon Friday, though, and I've promised to help with Aidan's renovations for the next few weeks. I think she's hoping to celebrate the Solstice in her new house. That's four weeks, I think she's being optimistic -- but we'll see." Duncan pulled the door closed, then stepped back to let Joe lock up. The two walked to their cars and parted for the night in a companionable silence.

* * * *

8:00 AM Seacouver/4:00 PM Munich - Thursday

The account transfer from Munich to Seacouver went through without a hitch. As deutsche marks worth $25,000 US changed electronic hands, a sub-program within the bank's computer activated. It noted the transfer from a marked account and batched all the transaction details. The sub-program then transmitted those details to a email account and erased all signs of the transmission. Finished, it subsided and waited for another trigger to activate it again.

* * * *

12:30 PM Seacouver/2:30 PM Chicago - Thursday

Aidan laughed at Joe's chagrin. "What's the matter, Joe? Got something against Prince?"

"Here, Sally, Rickert's Red as usual." Beer handed over, Joe turned to his helper, trying to frown but unable to quite make it. "No, I like it or I wouldn't have it on the jukebox. But don't you think going from 'Food and Creative Love' to 'Little Red Corvette' is a bit much?"

She pulled a pitcher of Killian's Red off the tap, waited for the foam to settle, and handed it to Kim. "Have you listened to the lyrics? If you'll get the strawberry margaritas, I'll get the Bloody Mary's. What is this? It's a Thursday lunch, don't they have to go back to work?"

"It's Memorial Day weekend. A lot of them are taking off early, that's all." Joe nodded at the money in the tip jar, which was piling up nicely for so early in the day. "Remind me to split that with you when you leave."

Aidan nodded absently, and spent the next few hours being grateful that Joe had handed her his _Bartender's Guide_ last night. What she didn't realize was that the tips were much better than usual, largely due to her looks and manner. The waitresses and Joe watched over her until they were sure she wouldn't make any glaring errors, then they all settled down to work a very hectic Thursday lunch crowd.

* * * *

3:00 PM Seacouver/2:00 PM Alaska - Thursday

The quarrel hissed through the air before it struck the bear just under the shoulder. A minute later the blond man wearing hunter's camouflage followed the same path more slowly to confirm his kill, crossbow reloaded and ready. The crossbow had no sight, no sniper scope. The man had no gun, neither rifle nor pistol, only a dagger and a bastard sword. He strode directly to the bear, showing no worry that the creature might not be dead yet, that those claws or teeth might yet be put to deadly purpose.

Sure enough, his shot had been perfect. Alone, without modern weapons, the bear had still come in second best to a predator a tenth its weight. How disappointing and dull. He really would have to find better game to hunt soon.

* * * *

4:45 PM Seacouver - Thursday

"Joe, Renee is here, you said yourself the real rush will start around six, and I've seen you trying not to flinch. Go sit your butt on that stool and I'll bring you your guitar. It's that or be carried." Aidan glared at him, and Renee, Joe's other bartender, laughed.

"I'd love to see you do it." Renee and Joe said it simultaneously, but in two very different tones. A wicked smile spread across Aidan's face and she began to roll up her sleeves. The mingled disbelief and challenging threat had just stirred her competitive blood.

"Now wait a second, Aidan...." Joe tried to back up but there was no room in that narrow aisle behind the bar and Renee blocked his way, giggling.

"Renee, do you suppose you could hold down the bar by yourself for a minute?"

"Sure, Aidan, no problem. No one's going to be ordering drinks during this anyway! Don't hurt your back, though." Renee had heard about Aidan from Mike, and seen her in dancing once or twice. Working with her promised to be every bit as entertaining as Mike had said.

"Ten dollars says she can't do it," came the comment from one of the patrons.

Without ever looking over, Aidan reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of bills. She counted off five twenties and handed them to Renee. "I shall match up to a hundred. From here to the stage, including up the stairs, without putting Joe down once. You hold, Renee." Then she looked at the gentleman who had started it and smiled sweetly. "You, however, sir, may pay me off personally when I do so -- you may owe me a dance, later, in addition to the ten-spot."

The bets rolled in fast and furious and Joe hovered between embarrassment, anger, and laughter. True to form, laughter won. "I'll cover another fifty of it, what the hell, gotta support my own people," Joe chuckled. "Aidan, you sure you're up to this?"

"So long as you don't squirm, Joe, certainly. Any last words?" Aidan had hastily coiled waist-length hair up in an intricate twist and skewered it with pencils to keep it out of the way of Joe's arms. Now she whistled once, piercingly. "All right, everyone, clear me a path from the bar to the stage -- of people, mind; leave the furniture be, please."

The patrons moved to one side or the other, making their own side bets now that Joe and Aidan's money had been matched. Aidan looked over the passage behind the bar and shook her head in dismay. Of all the damn fool places to be when making a wager like this....

"Wait, what do you mean last words?" Joe continued to protest as Aidan bent slightly and scooped him up with one arm under his thighs and the other around his back. He immediately threw his arm around her shoulders, feeling the muscles bunch and ripple as she crabbed sideways along the alley behind the bar. His legs were too long for her to do it any other way, and she cursed roundly in Gaelic as they went. Joe understood very little of it except the amused, exasperated tone. One of these days, the Watcher swore, he had to learn Gaelic! Hell, he'd managed German and French, after all....

It made a thoroughly ridiculous sight; Joe was a good two inches taller than Aidan, and broader through the chest. Once they hit the relatively clear area in front of the bar, she had less trouble. She maneuvered him smoothly through the tables, pivoting one way or another to go around chairs without bruising him. Cheering and clapping sprang up as she negotiated one particularly tricky section.

"Thank the Gods for fire marshals and their regulations, and ne'er did I think I'd say that!"

Joe laughed despite feeling ridiculous. When she got to the stairs up to the stage, she paused, looking at them in great disgust. "Lovely. The things I go through to get you to take a break, Dawson! You realize I'm going to insist on having at least one song request tonight."

One heckler in the crowd called, "You going or not?"

Aidan's laughter rang across the room. "I said I wouldn't put him down. I never said I couldn't stop to figure out how to do this, now did I?" But she started up.

"ONE!" The crowd called out the number as she moved up the stair, only to pause before taking the next one.

Joe muttered quietly, "It's not worth hurting yourself, I don't care how fast you heal."

Just as softly, she replied, "Actually I'm just playing to the audience, so they'll have lost their money's worth. I carried Ramirez off a mountain, once; you're not bad at all."

"TWO!" Again she paused.

"If you say so." Joe sounded amused at the comparison, but he could feel her shift his weight slightly as they rested. "Were you ever in theater?"

"THREE!" This time she didn't pause, only murmured, "Dana, what was I thinking?"

"FOUR!!!"

"Wait, you were carrying him downhill...."

"So I was." Aidan carried Joe over to his stool and set him down carefully, keeping her arm around his back until he had his balance. She handed him his guitar, turned to the bar, and swept the crowd a flourishing bow, dropping straight from the waist. They hooted and clapped, laughed and cheered and made complete fools of themselves. The holiday weekend was obviously off to a good start.

It took her five full minutes to get back to Renee and her winnings, as people patted her on the back, checked her biceps, and wanted to know what she did to be that strong. Some of her answers left hysterically laughing people behind her.

"I'm second alternate for Santa's sleigh team."

"Years of clean living -- pumping that much water does wonders for your arms."

"Too much spinach. I yam what I yam." When the lady in question looked puzzled, Aidan shook her head sadly and said, "Have you never seen any Popeye cartoons?"

Notes spun out over the crowd noise as Joe started up a raucous guitar riff, spinning it into the sliding opening notes of 'Traveling Riverside Blues'. Aidan escaped behind the bar as the crowd settled back into their seats to listen to the bluesman.

"Damn, that was something! Here's your money and your winnings. Remind me to tell Joe his is behind the Cointreau, where no one will get it. Oh, loudmouth slunk off into the night, by the way!" Renee laughed, face flushed, short blond hair and long tanned hands flying to fill the orders the waitresses were bringing in.

Aidan had just turned to thank her for the help, when she felt immortal presence wash over her. The sheer strength of it forced her head down and she grabbed desperately for the edge of the counter. Who in the hell was that? She turned her head, knowing it was definitely male, desperately looking for him with grey eyes huge in a face gone white.

Outside the door, Methos paused, startled; he felt as though he had just stepped into a pool of friendly electricity. Presence from another immortal rippled and pulsed around him, swirling like a tide. Then he smiled, remembering other reunions with Edana. She was the only one who felt like this, with a field which matched her emotions and swirled out into areas she considered her own. Currently she was in a good mood. Time to go in, though, before she looked for her sword.

Renee had just turned to hand Aidan her cash when the brunette nearly fainted. "Aidan, you all right? Shit, was Joe too heavy? Sit down while I get you some water...."

"Renee, I'm fine, I assure you. I forgot to eat lunch, that's all." Aidan scanned the crowd and the doors, searching for recognition, challenge posture, anything at all to identify the other. The front door opened and late afternoon sunlight silhouetted a familiar form. Tall, slender, overcoat ending somewhere around the tops of the hiking boots, she knew his shadow better than her own.

"Excuse me," Aidan said, or thought she said. Later she never knew if the words made it out. Nor did she care. She moved through the other patrons without seeing them, dodging them without thought or word.

When she could think again, she had her arms in his trenchcoat, wrapped firmly around his waist. The cording in his sweater rasped against her face. Methos' cheek rested against the top of her head, his left arm enfolded her waist, and his free hand was stroking down her hair again and again. Somehow he had moved them away from the doorway. Neither one had said a word.

When Methos felt her muscles easing under his arm, he gently tilted her head up and kissed her on the forehead. Still silent, he handed back the pencils he had taken out of her hair, surprising her into that laughter he loved so well. His face held that half-smile she had seen a thousand, thousand times down the years, and he pushed her gently toward Renee.

"They're looking for you at the bar, I think. Shall I sit and talk to you as you can spare the time? Leave it to Joe to neglect mentioning hiring you."

Aidan looked over at Joe who grinned at her from the stage, and then she recognized what he was playing: 'You Never Really Know', from _Red Shoe Diaries_ if she remembered correctly. "Are we going to repay him for this?"

"Oh, yes, I think we'll manage something. My word on it." Methos settled into a stool at the bar, boneless as ever to look at him. Now that she was studying him, though, Aidan saw lines of strain around his eyes, and bones too sharp under the skin. He smelled faintly of cigarettes, sour baby milk, and stale air. Without a word, she handed him a beer and some coffee, ringing both onto her own tab.

Renee raised an eyebrow at Aidan and handed over her winnings. This story would have to wait.

* * * *

Aidan sighed, wrapping the blissful silence around herself. Much as she loved Joe's bar, she was enjoying the quiet of the evening more. She had been amazed at the tip money she had accumulated in six hours; her share came to just under one hundred, plus the hundred she had made off that insane bet. But the crowd had overwhelmed her at last and at 6:30 she had fled gratefully, taking Methos with her.

She laughed softly, thinking of Joe's face when neither of the immortals had said a word to him about his meddling. She had no doubts he had brought Methos haring in from wherever in the world he had been; she just didn't know how yet.

Without opening his eyes, Methos commented, "What is it?"

"What's what? We're almost there, by the way. Are you hungry?" She concentrated on her driving, part of her mind turning to what to cook for dinner.

"Why the sigh? And then the chuckle? And the word is 'ravenous', not 'hungry.' I plan to eat you out of house and home." He folded his hands over the seatbelt, listening to the road under the wheels. Aidan hadn't turned on the radio; the only sounds in the cab of her truck were breathing and heartbeats, with the occasional soft imprecation in one language or another at the drivers out tonight.

"Sheer pleasure in silence, actually. But the look on Joe's face, waiting for the other shoe to drop...." Aidan chuckled. As the truck stopped at a light, she reached over and touched his face with the tips of her fingers. Methos was still almost unreal to her, too well known to be a phantasm, too long apart to be believed quite yet.

Long, warm fingers entwined her own. Holding her hand in place, he turned his face just enough to kiss her palm, then released her. "Shall we let him wait and worry? Where are we going, anyway? Hopefully it involves food and eventually a shower."

"At the moment, I'm staying with Joe. All my belongings are in New York if that tells you anything. And of course I'm going to feed you. You know me better than that, old friend." Aidan reclaimed her hand as they turned off the thoroughfare and began to wind their way back to the house.

"You're staying with Joe? Damn, that means the back bedroom is occupied. Or is it?"

"He's not quite my type, more's the pity. Wonderful hands on him." She fell silent for a moment, while she dodged children playing ball in the street. "And we've slept together in one bed across two continents. Unless you just like the hide-a-bed, I see no reason to change habits now."

"Do you care what he'll think? Or MacLeod?"

She raised an eyebrow, but never took her eyes off the road. "How did you know I've met Duncan? And Joe already knows we're friends. I have no idea how he chose to interpret the word."

"You don't know about the fax, then. That explains quite a bit." Methos smiled at a secret only he knew. "He set it up beautifully. And I'm more worried about your good name than mine, Flame. By the by, what name are you using? I heard Renee call you Aidan."

"Aidan Logan. _Honi soit qui mal y pense_, Methos. Joe has better things to worry about than what we are or aren't doing in a bed." She parked in front of Joe's house and then twisted in her seat to face him. Very seriously she asked, "What do you want, Methos? I'm maneuvering blind here."

"I hadn't meant to prick at you, Edana. Aidan. I'm tired and quarrelsome, it was a long trip from Paris. Apologies." He got out of the truck and reached into the back for his bags.

Aidan watched him, concerned but willing to let him dodge the question for now. She had long practice at getting straight answers out of him. It could wait... for a while. Taking one bag, she walked into the house. Before she could even ask if he knew where everything was, Methos moved past her toward the back bedroom. Aidan called after him, "Go get a hot shower. If you take less than thirty minutes I throw you back in, be warned!"

When she got into the kitchen to make dinner, the note on the kitchen counter got her attention. The envelope read, "Aidan or Adam, whichever." Aidan gave in to her curiosity and opened it.

Joe had left a note that said only, "Plenty of food in the 'fridge, Adam's favorite beer is in there too. Leave me a plate if you cook, please, I'll be in sometime late. Joe. PS -- Am I forgiven yet?"

She burst into laughter and foraged for dinner makings. Forty minutes later, when Methos finally reappeared in clean jeans and a slightly oversized 'Joe's' t-shirt, the kitchen smelled wonderful.

"What's for dinner?" He started to browse through the pots and pans, lifting lids, and dodging the spoon she swung at his knuckles. "Behave, woman, who taught you to use weapons anyway? Hmm, broccoli and pearl onions, angel hair pasta, sautéed mushrooms with..." he sniffed the skillet, "... fresh garlic and red wine, and what else do I smell?" He turned on the oven light and a beatific look spread over his face. "Salmon and butternut squash? Ah, wonderful!"

Aidan handed him a beer and replied, deadpan, "You missed the ginger and lemon grass on the salmon, and the rolls already out of the oven and in the basket on the table."

"Cooking for an army? Or just us?" Methos drained off half the beer, already looking much better just from the application of hot water over his head. A half-smile quirked his mouth as he read Joe's note on the table. "Are we leaving food for Joe?"

"Of course. He bought a very nice piece of salmon for us. Shame not to let him have any."

"Anything I can do?" He stirred the mushrooms and replaced the spoon. Aidan glanced up from the cutting board, cheese slicer in hand, and looked around to see where dinner stood.

"Yes, please. Will you load some classical music in the stereo? I've been listening to jazz and rock all day. The salmon will be ready in about ten, I put it in when you cut the water off. Oh, and if you'd open the bottle I left in the freezer. It would be a shame not to have some good wine when I've cooked this much." She loaded the cheese onto a platter with pears, apples and ginger snaps for after the meal and put it on the table.

Both of them were busy for the next little while as food moved from the kitchen to the table. After they had made serious inroads on dinner, Methos finally looked up. "This is wonderful, Edana. I'd forgotten how thoroughly you like to spoil your friends."

Aidan smiled across the table at him. "Well, wait 'til I make you work it off when you wake up tomorrow. How long are you in town for?"

"As long as it takes to catch up on three centuries of news."

Aidan studied his face, his hands, and the way he was holding his head. "What's bothering you, mo cridhe? And don't tell me 'nothing'."

"I suppose you'd hit me if I said it was nothing to worry about?" He did his best imitation of MacLeod's wistful look and smiled as he realized she wasn't going to fall for it. "Partly it's shock that you're truly alive. The rest of it... I haven't decided how to solve a problem, yet, that's all."

She thought about that for a long while, and finally replied, "Finish dinner. We'll talk afterwards. You said you came in from Paris? Do I need to rub out your back after that many plane trips?"

Methos quite cheerfully replied, "When have I turned down that offer? Learned any new techniques since I last saw you? I know you studied it for awhile in Helsinki in, what, the 1400s?"

And they turned the topic to other things: places visited, old friends, recent studies.

* * * *

Joe quietly called in, "Hello? Anyone awake?"

From the direction of the den floor, he heard a cheerful female voice reply, "Of course I am. It's only eleven. How'd the night go?" Aidan had been lying on her stomach, bare feet up in the air, legs crossed at the ankles. She rolled to the side and came quickly to her feet. "Sit, I'll get your dinner for you. I've had it in the oven on warm."

Dawson sagged into a chair gratefully. "Long night. Folks were in a good mood though. You're rapidly becoming a legend in my bar, by the way."

Aidan set the warm plate in front of him and produced ice water and wine. "Eat."

Joe took an appreciative bite of the salmon and sighed. "I'm really going to miss you when you move. You just don't know."

She laughed softly and replied, "No, you shall simply have to come over for dinner on a regular basis. I hate cooking for one, did I never tell you?"

Aidan brought her papers in from the den to work at the table and keep him company. For a while, companionable silence reigned, broken only by the orchestral score playing quietly in the background and the rapid movements of a calligrapher's pen over paper. She alternated back and forth between a set of diagrams on graph paper and a handwritten list on a legal pad.

"Where's Methos? Am I forgiven yet?" Joe set his fork down and settled back in his chair, glancing over to see what she was working on. It looked like a set of floor plans, so he assumed it was renovation plans for her new place.

"Oh, he's been asleep for a couple of hours now. I fed him, gave him a rub down, and sent him off to bed." Aidan glanced over at him, amused. "And forgiven for what? Stocking the refrigerator? Don't be ridiculous, Joe, the salmon was a wonderful surprise."

Dawson grinned at her, seeing the mischief in her eyes. "Okay, I'll drop that. Sent him off to bed? You taking the couch?"

She raised an amused eyebrow and put down her pen. On a second thought, she capped it and set her papers off to one side. "All right, Joseph, out with it. Where did you come up with the odd notion that I was taking the couch?"

Joe took a sip of the wine and debated how to phrase this. "From the body language, I'd have to say you're in love with Methos." _Yeah, the way the face fades to that unconcerned, amused look. I should have known Methos trained her._ "But you two don't act like lovers. Are you going to be all right sharing a bed with him and not doing anything?"

Aidan blinked, startled, then shook her head slowly, mouth twisting into a lopsided smile. "Damn, Joe, if you were one of us you'd be really dangerous. Did you ever meet Darius?"

"Aidan, you are not changing the subject that easily. Is this going to hurt you?" His exasperation made the words come out more harshly than he had intended and she smiled despite herself.

"Gods. You're a good friend, Joe Dawson. Some of my husbands haven't worried this much about me. Does this stay between us?" She held his eyes with her own until he nodded.

"Yeah. It does."

"I've been in love with Methos most of my life. And it takes more willpower than you want to know not to drag him into a bed and keep him there for a century or so. But," and she took a deep breath, face still composed, "I slept in the same bed with him through Europe, across Greece to Asia Minor, and through half of Asia and India. We traveled as brother and sister most of the time, it was simplest and most believable. I'll be fine; I have a great deal of practice at it."

Joe shook his head slowly. "Why aren't you two lovers? You said you've had husbands, I take it you don't object to men."

She laughed, that merry noise he was going to miss in his house when she moved. "No, I definitely do not object to men. Or women for that matter. After the first few centuries, especially after some of the cultures I've lived in, you quit caring so much about what gender they are. What matters is whether you love them. Did I ever tell you I had three husbands, once?"

"Who said you could change the subject? Although I'm gonna have to hear that story later." Joe waggled a finger at her, scolding. "What's the deal, woman? Even I can tell he loves you."

She sighed, resigned to incomprehension. "I don't bed immortals, Joe. Ever. I won't face a lover at the Gathering, it would kill me."

Joe stared at her for a long minute, then said, "Tell me I didn't hear that right. You don't what?!"

Aidan moved her papers off the table, then turned back to Joe and replied, "You heard it correctly. What did you misunderstand?"

"Aidan, I'm mortal, and I'm tired, and my stumps hurt too much for this. Explain this to me, and stick to simple terms. Why not." His voice held a dangerous flatness that told Aidan he was on his way to being well and truly angry. She simply did not understand why.

"Joe. When the Gathering comes, we will have to fight. The Fates, or the Gods, or whatever you want to call them, will ensure that. I can't take someone into my bed without becoming... vulnerable to them. Call it a flaw in my character if you must. I cannot bear the idea of having to kill someone I've bedded, so I don't bed immortals. It was bad enough the few times I've had to kill mortal lovers. Crossing swords with someone I've loved down the centuries...." She shuddered at the thought without ever noticing. "I could not do it, Joe. Even if I won, I'd be easy prey for the next immortal who came along. More likely I'd put my sword down and give them my head."

She looked back at him, anguish in her face and her voice. "Why does no one understand, Joe? Am I so wrong?"

Joe shook his head, watching her, and finally replied with an apparent non sequitur. "Aidan, did you ever read anything by Robert Heinlein? Science fiction writer, died back in the late '80s. One of the grand old men of the field, won three or four Nebulas."

"Yes, one or two books of his. I enjoyed _The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress_, I think it was called. And I believe he also wrote _Double Star_?" Somehow, Aidan doubted that she had been lucky enough that he had changed the subject.

"Yeah, that was him. He formulated Cheop's Law that you mentioned the other night, too. But what I was thinking of was a book of his about Lazarus Long. Man was over two thousand years old, through a combination of good genes and rejuvenation techniques. And sheer good sense. One of the few times he married a lady who didn't have the genes for long life, his wife told him something important that you need to think about.

"She said, and I'm paraphrasing, he wasn't going to live any longer than she was. That everyone had the past, the present, and the future. She couldn't remember a time when she wasn't, and neither could he. So though his past might be richer, deeper, it wasn't longer. As for the future, who knew? He might outlive her, she might outlive him, they might die together in an accident. So why not enjoy now?"

Joe watched her for a moment, saw from her face she was still listening. "I think you're so scared of a possible future that you're denying yourself any joy now. And without that joy to draw on, I'm not sure how well you'll do in the future. All I'm asking is that you think about it."

He pushed himself to his feet. "I'm gone to bed, Aidan. I'll get the rest of the dishes in the morning. Sleep well -- or better yet, don't sleep." Joe got out of the room before she could manage to say anything.

Aidan sat there for a long time, plans forgotten. The CD finished and clicked off. Her hands, usually so busy, lay still in her lap as Joe's words crashed through her head again and again. 'I think you're so scared... why not enjoy now?' Sometimes it was Duncan's voice instead, from the first night they met. 'You're refusing to take lovers from the ones who can understand you best.' At last, battered and confused, she sought the only refuge she could find: sleep.

Almost absently she turned off the lights and the stereo and headed toward the back bedroom. Aidan paused in the doorway, turning arguments around in her mind. She watched Methos sleep, sprawled out across the entire bed as usual, one pale arm showing against the dark pillowcase. If she slept on the couch in the living room, he would think she was angry about something. If she slept next to him, she would have to lock her controls tighter than ever, and pray to her Goddess to get her through this. His pain or hers?

The answer became inevitable once she had reduced it to that question. Setting the alarm for six, she swiftly stripped down to an old cut-off t-shirt and panties and pulled back the sheet.

Methos opened his eyes, startled, as cool air hit his skin. He started to reach for his sword, then remembered where he was and realized who was in the room with him. "Edana? How late is it?"

"Midnight or so, but that's what, eight in Paris? Go back to sleep, my own, it's too soon for you to be awake. I just wanted part of the bed." She kept her voice casual as she sat down on the edge of the bed. With one hand she checked the placement of her sword, then reached back and checked for the dagger in the headboard. Satisfied, she tucked her feet under the sheet and settled onto her side, pulling the sheet up over her shoulder.

Without a word, Methos turned over and curled himself around her, reverting to their usual sleeping arrangement. He made no comment on her clothes, although he knew full well her preference had always been for sleeping nude. Her muscles lay in cords under his arm and against his legs; by her breathing she was wide awake. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Biting her lip, Aidan shook her head silently, knowing he would see it in the light coming through the curtains.

"All right. I'll ask you again another day." He pulled his arm back from where it was wrapped around her waist and began to work on the muscles of her neck. By the time he had reached her shoulderblades, the tension had eased and she lay half-asleep against him. He pushed gently and Edana rolled onto her stomach, head pillowed on one arm. He sat up and went to work with both hands, relaxing her muscles, feeling whatever it was drain out of her as she finally slept.

Odd feeling, though; usually she was the one who ended up doing this for him. Sometime in the next few days, Methos resolved, after he settled things with MacLeod, he'd have to probe into this. Sure that Edana was sleeping at last, he curled himself against her. This time he fell asleep breathing in the familiar scent of roses from her body, the faint traces of rosemary and orange from her hair.

* * * *

"Did you really have to set the alarm for such a dreadful, worm-chasing hour of the morning?"

Aidan looked up from where she was prying apart the remnants of some drywall and grinned at the sight Methos made. He wore old jeans, a battered t-shirt, tennis shoes, and a layer of sweat and sawdust. The sword strapped on over all of it gave him an air so gloriously incongruous she could only laugh.

"Good morning. I take it the coffee finally kicked in? That's been your first coherent sentence this morning, you do realize."

"No, I did manage 'Where's the coffee?' And speaking of coffee, I may be labor, but I am not slave labor. At the very least you have to feed me."

Aidan pointed with her chin to one wall. "The sink does work. Wash your hands off, at least, and I'll tell you where the thermos and basket are."

"You're not eating?" He masked his concern carefully. Edana could be a bit skittish when she wanted to avoid subjects. She hadn't mentioned anything this morning, but he clearly remembered her coming to bed upset. When the alarm went off this morning, she had been draped across him, instead of curled inside the curve of his body as they usually slept. As usual, she had shed the clothes sometime in the night. It had been a pleasant, if surprising, way to wake up.

"I'll eat when I get back. We got up so early to have a few hours over here before I have to go set up the bar for Joe. Go on, clean up."

Methos sighed dramatically. "You woke me up at six in the morning to work on your new place -- which I think I'm going to like by the way -- and you're going to leave me here by myself while you go tend bar at Joe's? Who taught you such chicanery, woman, you didn't learn it from me."

Aidan blinked, then shook her head. "If I were going to leave you here for six or eight hours while I tend bar, I'd agree with you. However, I usually just set up the place. Yesterday was an exception -- designed, I think, to make sure we ran into each other. I take it you usually stop by the bar when you hit town?"

"Yes, and Joe knew I planned on staying with him the next time I hit town. Tricky man. Oh, if you check my overcoat, you'll find the fax I mentioned last night." Instead of just washing his hands, Methos sluiced water over his head. He reached for the paper towels next to the sink and dried his face.

"Much better. Did you find them?" He turned around and found her sitting on the floor, giggling, covered with plaster from the drywall and sawdust that had drifted down from the ventilation holes above.

"Oh, sweet Mother, is this what he did?" Aidan chortled, waving a finger at the fax in admiration. "Oh, beautiful, that would have yanked me halfway around the world, too -- but don't tell him that!"

Methos brought over the food and a couple cups. "Here, have some water." He started rummaging through the basket, then pulled out bread, cheese, and a pear. Deliberately, he left some of the cheese out, and a roll.

Aidan drained her water in a single long swallow. "But where did he get this photo? That's from last weekend when Duncan and I were checking some riverfront property. I remember, we had the top down and had to put it back up that afternoon.. Joe wasn't there that I know of...." Absently she picked up some of the cheese and nibbled it as she started running that morning back through her mind.

"I wouldn't worry about it. There's probably a perfectly good reason. Joe is devious, after all."

"The pot calling the kettle black! Anyway, I need to go do setup. I should be back in a bit over two hours. Do you mind?" She pushed herself to her feet and looked around.

"No, I think I can amuse myself adequately. I may even get the third floor sanded. What's next from there?" Methos handed her the roll and looked around the second floor to see what it needed.

"The drywall has to come down, and the studs. The rest of the floor is already cleared for the sander, but I haven't cut the holes for the heat vents yet." She pulled the clipboard out from behind her without looking. "Here's the list."

Methos looked it over and sighed ostentatiously. "You were going to do this by yourself?"

"No, I drafted help, but he probably can't start before tomorrow." She leaned over, kissed him on the cheek, and stood up. "I'll be back soon. Did you want the radio from the truck?"

"Over the sander? My ears aren't that good. Don't worry about it."

* * * *

Aidan glanced up at the doors, polishing rag in hand. Two immortals in twenty-four hours? Male, not as powerful as Methos, it was probably Duncan. She moved over towards her coat anyway. Why take chances now?

Duncan walked in, looking around almost casually, but she noticed where his hands were and smiled. Extreme caution, the mark of surviving immortals. "Hello, what are you doing here? Don't you have grades to do?"

He strolled over to the bar. "Actually, fair lady, I'm here to deliver m'self into y'r hands. Do wi' me as ye will." Then he grinned and said, "Actually, I just turned in the grades and my office keys and did all the other necessary nonsense. My summer intern has things under control at the dojo, my toolbox is in the car, and I'm all yours. I did give my poor intern your cell phone number, by the way."

Aidan gave the bar one final swipe, decided she hadn't missed anything, and called, "Mike, do you need me for anything else?"

The disembodied voice from behind the bar replied, "Send my insurance to my wife when this beer keg kills me, but other than that, nah."

"Mike? You're not married." Aidan valiantly controlled her voice to keep it calm and reasonable, but her lips twitched as she tried not to smile. Duncan listened to the by-play, immensely amused. Few people realized Mike had a sense of humor, until it erupted.

"Really? I forgot. Damn, who was that woman who emptied my wallet this morning, then?" He popped up from behind the bar. "Hey, MacLeod, how's it going? Seriously, Aidan, unless there's something you know about that I don't, I figured you were nearly done. Go work on your house."

Aidan debated telling Duncan who was already at her place, then decided not to. "All right, Duncan, I'll meet you over there. Thanks, Mike, see you tomorrow."

* * * *

Duncan didn't have a key yet so he waited for Aidan in the small parking lot behind her new place. What in the world was she going to do with this much space? She seemed convinced she could put all of it to use eventually. He kept meaning to call Connor and find out how much his clansman was storing for her, but he never got around to it, somehow. Already, four large bags of trash were neatly piled by the dumpster, and a large stack of drywall, plaster, and 2x4 remnants, nails bent down, completed the trash heap.

Aidan parked next to the T-bird and hauled out a sand-blaster. "Sorry to take so long, Duncan, needed to go rent this. I have a feeling we'll be working on the walls before sundown."

The Scot raised an eyebrow, complete disbelief on his face. "Aidan, I heard about that bet yesterday. If you worked at Joe's until 6:00 or 7:00, when have you had time to get that much done?"

"Everyone has to believe in something, Duncan. I believe that more than six hours of sleep is wasteful. It's not like I can get mono or anything else interesting, and I usually stay busy."

Duncan just raised an eyebrow. "I am going to have to talk you into bending that rule of yours. I bet an immortal could induce you to sleep more than six hours."

Aidan rolled her eyes, mildly exasperated and amused. "Duncan, I hate to tell you this, but with the possible exception of Hugh FitzCairn, Dana send him back to us soon, any woman can wear out any man and still be revved up and ready to go. I used to wear out three men a night on a regular basis." _All right, so they usually helped wear each other out, I don't think I want to startle him that much...._

"Three men?" Duncan blinked in surprise. "You and three--" He found the idea a little too arousing to consider right now. Having shared a woman himself more than once in his checkered past, usually with Fitz, too (and he hoped that wasn't in Joe's records!), he could imagine some of what three men could do to try to exhaust one woman. No, that was not the direction his thoughts needed to be going. _Let's see, snowfall, glaciers, the iceberg that sank the Titanic...._

Aidan watched the emotions playing across his face with great interest. First startlement, then curiosity, then arousal that heated her own blood, then swift mastery to control. For a long moment Duncan seemed very far away, then he met her eyes again. "Do I want to know, or should I just assume you were a scandal to the jaybirds and leave it be?"

"Well, actually, the scandal was probably more in the fact that I was married to all of them at once, Duncan...." She distracted him with that immediately as she moved to phase two of her plan: stealing his car keys. "However, as you've heard about the bet, you can see why I want you to carry the sand-blaster. My back still hurts, immortal healing or no. Who knew prostheses were so bloody heavy? Pass me your keys, and I'll bring your tool box along. Did you remember the saws?"

Duncan threw her the keys. "Of course I did, I'm the one who told you that we'd need them, remember?" Valiant effort for naught, he sighed and said, "And what were you doing with three husbands?"

Aidan slung his keys into her pocket, then balanced his tool box in one hand, the two saws in the other, and reached up with one foot to pull down the trunk. "Ah, ah, I promised to tell Joe that one. Now if you want to buy me a drink late tonight, I'll tell everyone at once. Come on."

Now for phase three. Deliberately, Aidan wrapped her presence around Duncan. She pushed down her surge of conscience; she would find a way to make this up to him later. For now she meant to see his relationship with Methos mended by the end of the day. Doing this, Methos wouldn't know who was coming -- and Duncan wouldn't know who was waiting.

On the second floor, Methos turned off the sander as he felt another immortal coming. It felt like Edana, and it didn't. What was that undercurrent? He drew his sword, not worried about who might notice. On the second floor it didn't matter, the windows were still filthy, and he'd have to be alive to care anyway. The last thing he had expected was to see MacLeod stepping out of the freight elevator carrying some piece of machinery, followed by an unexpectedly serious-looking Edana.

As soon as Duncan saw Methos, he turned around and stared at Aidan. "I never felt him. Was that why you did that?"

Aidan had set down the tool box and saws in the freight elevator. Now her sword sliced air as it emerged from her coat. "This is ridiculous. You love him dearly. He loves you dearly. Neither of you is talking to the other. We live a long time, but I don't seem to have acquired patience along the way. Settle this now. Without killing each other, by the way, teacher mine. Put down the sword."

She caught Methos' eyes and smiled a bit more grimly than he liked. "And to give you both an incentive? I have my weapons, the spare keys to Joe's, and Duncan's keys as well. I'll be down on the first floor. You can't leave without my seeing you, and where would you go? I'm going to go take out some aggressions on the drywall downstairs."

Both men watched as she left, still too surprised to say much yet. Methos sighed and put his sword back into its scabbard and set it off to one side in the clean area with the food and the coolers. After Aidan had taken the freight elevator downstairs, he spoke, apparently to himself. "She always was pigheaded when she got an idea in her mind."

Duncan winced slightly then said, "Actually, she isn't the only one. Maybe it's the Celtic upbringing."

Methos narrowed his eyes in speculation as the Highlander carefully drew his katana and set it down next to the longsword, then moved away from both blades.

"What, stubborn as a Celt, you mean?"

Duncan looked up, dark brown eyes very serious, and something in the set of his mouth told Methos this was important to him. "No, I mean, she isn't the only pigheaded one." MacLeod looked away, obviously hunting for the right words.

"I owe you an apology. I've known you for two years, off and on. I met Cassandra once for twelve hours or so when I was still a boy, and again for a few days a year or so ago. I should never have taken her story over yours without asking you for your side, even..." and here Duncan's face grew even more flushed, "... if I had slept with her."

Finally he looked back at Methos. "And I shouldn't have tried to browbeat an answer out of you, much less one I didn't want to listen to. God knows I've got things in my own past I have trouble forgiving myself and I'm a tenth your age. I had no right to judge you, and I'm sorry."

The silence from Methos dragged at Duncan's nerves, until finally he said plaintively, "And I've missed you. I've missed finding your beer in the fridge, your shoes on the counter, coming in and finding you've taken up residence on the couch. I've even missed arguing with you over my tastes in music."

Methos finally shook his head, face still remote, not giving anything away. "MacLeod, you continue to amaze me." Turning, he walked to the wall. Duncan tensed as the oldest immortal reached the swords and stood there for a minute, back to Duncan. Methos knelt down for a long moment, then he turned around.

Duncan had been afraid Methos would come around with his sword. Instead, he threw a can with a lazy underhand pitch. "Have a beer. _Mi casa es su casa_, MacLeod."

The younger man stood there, holding the drink he'd automatically caught, as startled as he'd been since waking that first day in his father's house as the clansmen used his name for a war cry, thinking him dead. Only then did he register the open cooler behind Methos, next to the swords.

"I should have known you do nothing in half-measure." The older immortal walked over to him and ruffled his hair. "I missed you, too, more than you know. This has been miserable. Thank you; I accept your apology." Then hazel eyes gleamed with mischief. "However, would you like to get even with some people?"

Duncan laughed in sheer relief as it finally sank in that he was forgiven, too. Without thinking about it, he grabbed Methos and hugged him, hard. Methos hugged him back, and Duncan gasped at the cold beer can against his skin.

"What did you have in mind? Damn, that's freezing, Methos -- and dripping!"

"Don't be such a wuss, Highlander, you're the one who used to run around in kilts. What do you think about repaying Edana and Joe for setting us up? Separately, of course." The beer can came away from Duncan's arm, much to his relief, and he grinned, thinking about it.

"I take it Edana is Aidan?" Duncan looked at the swords, the elevator shaft, and Methos.

"Yes, she is," and Methos followed his gaze, smiled and inclined his head, "and yes, that was what I was thinking. Be ready to duck. She has a tendency to keep throwing daggers around and if we get blood on her floors over a prank, she'll come after our hides in earnest."

Downstairs, Aidan had gone to work with a pry bar, destroying the offending wall of the downstairs bathroom with unnecessary force. _I can force them to talk to each other, but who's going to force me to decide what to do? I know I love Methos. I'm falling all too quickly for Duncan. Lady bless, I swore I would never bed an immortal; now I'm considering how to get two at once if I change my mind. And MacLeod is a youngster. He hasn't even made it to his sixth century yet. With women, it's usually the first century that determines their survival. With men, it's the first five, and he's just now starting his fifth. I must be out of my mind._

She burned her tension off with sheer physical exertion, setting her strength against aged wood and large nails. She had just reached for the hand saw, not wanting the convenience of one of the powered ones, when the clash of steel on steel brought her head up. That ringing cadence of blows sent Aidan running up the stairs; she never thought to grab her coat, only to stop the fight.

The sight appalled and fascinated her. Methos had just slashed at Duncan's shoulder, only to be met with a block that sliced back toward the oldest immortal's head. He ducked hastily, thrusting at Duncan's stomach. The Scot danced back away from him, katana deflecting the other blade just far enough for safety. Even as Duncan moved, Methos straightened, longsword sweeping out in that deadly backhand of his. Now the Scot twisted away from an attack, bringing his sword up to block Methos' blow a foot from his body.

Aidan ran toward them, yelling, "You idiots, quit this or I swear--" She cut her words off abruptly as they broke off their fight and leveled their swords at her. Only then did she realize her coat and sword were downstairs; all she had was a small belt knife and an Arkansas toothpick down the back of her shirt. She stopped sharply, arms going out for balance. Methos' longsword held steady four inches from her chest, just to the left of her sternum. Duncan's blade was poised in the air, maybe eight inches from her throat. One movement of his shoulders and wrists and her head left her shoulders.

Aidan raised her chin slightly, deliberately giving a better target and looked at both of them, arms still out and hands empty. "Nice to see you can agree on something." Her eyes were steady but the color was draining rapidly out of her face. Methos knew her too well; she'd never finish calling the winds, even if she could bring herself to start.

Methos regarded her with that maddening poker face he had trained into her. His voice sounded as harsh as it had during some of those first years he trained her. "Don't you ever, ever--"

Duncan cut in, "--quit meddling in your friends' lives for their own good." He dropped the tip of the katana to point at the ground and hugged her with his free arm. Methos closed in on her from the other side and wrapped his arm around her as she sagged against them both in relief.

"Idiot woman, did you actually leave your sword downstairs?" Methos growled the words into her ear as she started breathing normally again. Her legs began trembling as adrenaline overload hit already low blood sugar.

"You two scared me. I didn't think. Ramirez was right," she muttered, reverting to a bastard mix of Arabic and Middle Spanish, "love rots the brain."

Duncan grinned at her, after this morning he felt no sympathy for her shock. "You deserved that for setting us up like this. Admit it."

Aidan drew a deep breath as the terror finally receded and, thinking about it from their point of view, she had to agree; they were entitled to their pound of flesh. "You're right, I did." At last she started chuckling. "Gods, I haven't done anything this stupid in hundreds of years. Duncan, you are a terrible influence on me!"

"Me?!" Duncan let go of her and stepped back, indignant. "What did I do?"

"You're the most recent immortal I've met, therefore it's your fault." She chortled at the look on his face, and wrapped an arm around Methos' waist.

"Now wait, I did not teach you to plan and sneak to get people to do what you want. You set this whole thing up; it's not something I would've done!"

"Hmm, good point. I think that's your training, Methos." She tilted her head back against him, a fond look on her face.

"I know it's my training, and it's nice to see one of my students has taken it to heart. Work on Duncan, now, would you?" Methos took no offense whatsoever to being called a sneak. Death was not on his list of things to do, and he did what he had to do to keep it off the list.

Aidan disentangled herself from him and headed for the food. "I already abused him with history and logic until he apologized. What more do you want? I have a house to put in order and a book to translate; when am I supposed to take on graduate immortal training?"

"When did you last take a student?" Methos followed her over and grabbed an orange for himself, and threw a banana to her. Duncan came over to see what food there was and raided for cheese, sausage, radishes and wheat rolls.

"Aidan, could you update your food from the Middle Ages?"

"I'll get a refrigerator in here after we get the floors finished, Duncan, and not before. Blessed Lady, as if I'd let you starve! And I took one student in the 1800s and one before her in the mid-1700s, I think, Methos. In fact, I'm sure of it. Gorgeous boy, intelligent, too -- an Osage I found west of the Mississippi, called Running Wolf." A pained look crossed her face and Aidan turned away to investigate the basket.

Duncan and Methos traded glances, Duncan raised an eyebrow and Methos shook his head, mouthing, 'I'll ask.' "So what happened, Edana?"

She shrugged. "The usual, I'm afraid. He lost his head, then he lost his head. I had told him to stay on Holy Ground while I went trading. I couldn't take him with me due to some skin color prejudice of the time. It was safer that I go trade as a white woman by myself than with an Indian the right age and gender to be my lover.

"Running Wolf was very good with a knife, but I was training him on spear so that he'd have a semblance of reach. An immortal found him outside the sacred grove. I don't know why Wolf left Holy Ground -- from what I could find, I suspect he was lured out. From what I could find of Wolf's body, it was a long, nasty death. The killer left a note for whoever had been training such a 'tender morsel.'"

Aidan popped the lid on her soft drink and drained it. "He left the head propped on the spear under the cabin overhang, with the note in Wolf's mouth. Bastard had said he'd wait for me to get back, but I was delayed. He apparently grew bored and left. I never could find him, although I tracked him two hundred miles down toward Mexico before I lost the trail in the Apache territories."

She shrugged and used her belt knife to make a cheese sandwich. "The signature was some immortal I'd never heard of before named Melvin Koren. I understand he made a hell of a noise down Arkansas/Texas way about a century later. At least, I found an empty grave he'd been in, but I never found him." She looked up and only then saw the surprised recognition on their faces.

"You know him." The implacable rage that surfaced startled Duncan; Methos, however, had seen it before. "Who is he? Where was he last seen?"

"He's dead, Aidan, I killed him about a month ago."

At the same time Duncan tried to calm her, Methos replied, "He would most likely have taken your head, Edana. His name was actually Kronos; he was one of the Horsemen."

"One of the...." She reigned in her temper with a visible effort. After a slow, deep breath she nodded once. "Thank you, Duncan. Call in the favor when and as you like."

"You don't owe me." MacLeod protested immediately.

Aidan looked up at him, eyes ancient in that youthful face. "Understand me, Duncan MacLeod. Voluntary obligations are always heavier than those coerced. You don't think I owe you. I'm not sure I can repay you. Say 'Yes, Aidan,' file it away in your capacious memory, and use it when you're in need."

She sat and ate her sandwich, silent as a stone in the shadows. Methos reached over and pulled her back until she sat squarely in a pool of sunlight coming in through the window. Catching Duncan's eye, he put a finger to his lips, then pointed to his watch and held up three fingers.

Sure enough, Aidan began to relax. After a couple minutes, she tilted her head back to catch the sunshine full on her face. By the end of the three minutes, she had finished the sandwich and her usual cheer had returned in full force. Leaning over, she kissed Methos swiftly on the lips, then did the same to Duncan. "Thank you both. I'm headed up to the fourth floor to work on the walls. Yell if you need me."

She went down the stairs to the first floor, presumably to get her sword. Duncan watched her go and commented ruefully, "Well, we won't get bored at least. Flip you for who finishes sanding? Loser has to demolish the room downstairs."

Methos shrugged. "No need to flip, MacLeod, I've been working on floors all morning and I'm tired of the noise. You sand; I'll destroy. I do have practice." When Duncan flinched, the older immortal sighed and said, "Duncan. I know what I was; so do you. Let's not deny it, that's what got us into that argument. Just because I've changed doesn't mean I can't find a few good uses for the knowledge."

After a long moment, Duncan nodded. "Agreed. Now, if you can find a good use for pickled turnips, then I'll be impressed...."

* * * *

Aidan sighed and indulged herself in some Greek commentary on the sand-blaster's ancestry before she set it down to figure out why it had stopped working. A familiar, sardonic voice behind her spoke up. "I'll give you a hint. I unplugged it."

"Good, otherwise I'd have traced the machine's circuits before I checked the outlet. What's up, magister?"

Methos and Duncan looked at each other and exchanged knowing, aggravating looks. This time the Scot replied, "It's late, we're hungry, we're filthy. Enough. All three of us are getting cleaned up -- as soon as you give me my car keys back -- and you're buying dinner at Joe's. Methos and I will flip to see who covers drinks. You promised me a story about three husbands, remember? We all need the break, we'll go back to work on this tomorrow morning bright and early again."

Methos smiled slightly, that scheming look of his that always made Aidan's pulse race and her hackles rise. "Besides, we have some vengeance to wreak on Joe, for setting all three of us up. Here's what I thought we could do...."

* * * *

Joe saw Duncan stalk into his joint and immediately wondered if maybe he should have warned the younger immortal that Methos was headed into town. The Scot's temper seemed to be on a particularly short leash, and Joe couldn't think of any other reason.

"Shot of scotch, Joe." Duncan sat down on a stool, but didn't seem inclined to talk. Joe considered asking, but decided not to push his luck. Instead he polished the bar (which didn't need it), chatted with a couple ladies at the other end of the bar, and gave MacLeod some breathing room.

Out of the corner of his eye, Joe saw Mac straighten up, glaring at the door. As he did, Aidan walked in with Methos, talking in low, intense voices. Both of them had on that half-amused poker-face, and Joe realized they were arguing. Aidan caught Duncan's eye, nodded a greeting, but waved at him to stay where he was. Deliberately, she steered Methos to the other end of the bar.

"Hello, Joe. Killian's Dark for both of us, please, and some water as well for me." Joe raised an eyebrow at her when Methos looked away, admiring the ladies. She rolled her eyes, and looked disgusted for just a second. After a minute, she shooed Methos off to claim a booth that had just opened up, telling him she'd be there.

Aidan sighed, shoulders slumping. "Goddess give me patience, and do it soon! Those two!" When Joe gave her a concerned look, she shrugged. "It only came to swords once, and they broke it off when I got there. I don't think they were getting too serious about it."

"You going to be okay in the middle? Damn, I thought Duncan was going to apologize!"

Aidan shrugged. "I'll be fine. They'll work it out eventu.... Uh-oh, excuse me!" She grabbed her beer and tried to intercept Duncan on his way to the booth. Joe could see from the body language that they were getting into a heated argument, but they both kept it quiet. Then Methos leaned forward and made some comment. Aidan's eyes widened and she immediately stepped in front of Duncan.

Unfortunately, he was lunging at Methos. The edge of the table caught Aidan in the stomach and Duncan's force propelled her forward; Methos managed to catch her before she cracked her head on the table. The two men stared at each other, somewhere between shocked and angry, as half of Aidan's beer dripped off the table top where it had spilled. When she straightened up and caught her breath, Aidan began to give them both a piece of her mind, in carefully calm tones -- but in Gaelic.

Joe hurried over, concerned. "Damn it, what's gotten into you two? You want to leave her out of your argument? Aidan, you all right?"

"I'm fine, Joe, thank you, just 'discussing' something with these two idiots. Are you satisfied yet? Adam?"

Methos looked past her at MacLeod, studied Joe's obvious irritation and worry, glanced back at his former student and sighed ostentatiously. "Oh, very well, Aidan. Since he's so obviously out of practice...."

Duncan glared at Methos. "Out of practice? Why, you..."

"Duncan." Aidan's voice lashed at him. "Are you satisfied?"

He thought about it, glowering. As Joe grew more and more worried, Mac abruptly started laughing, and gasped out, "Oh, I think so!"

Aidan rubbed absently where the table had driven her belt buckle into her belly with bruising force. "And I think it's sufficient. All right, you two?" She held up three fingers. "Three, two, one..."

"Gotcha!" All three immortals chorused.

Aidan promptly continued, "...but did you have to slam me into the table, Duncan?"

"Well, we didn't exactly practice this. You all right?" He piled paper napkins onto the beer, swiped at the bench and finally sat down opposite Methos. "At least Adam caught you!"

Finally Joe recovered his voice. "You mean this was a sham? What the hell is going on?"

Aidan held out the fax Methos had received and replied, "We thought you deserved some grief for yanking Adam across the Atlantic, giving me heart failure in the bar last night, and forgetting to tell Duncan that Adam was here. Shall we call this quits?"

Joe promptly said, "I'm just a bartender, ma'am. I never annoy the paying customers."

Methos and Duncan both choked on their drinks. Aidan eyed both of them, her mouth twitching. "Maybe I should come sit at the bar to get intelligent conversation...."

To the surprise of the male immortals, Joe gave Aidan a withering glare. "Don't you even think about wimping out, young lady. You'll think this fax was a set of C scales. You hear me, Aidan?"

"I hear you. About dinner...?" She met his eyes and nodded; Joe held her gaze until he was mollified by what he saw. After he headed back to the bar with their order, and a promise to send Aidan a new beer, she sat down next to Methos.

"So, which of you is covering the drinks? And who's dancing with me, later?" Aidan grinned at both of them and promptly controlled the conversation for the next while. Only later that night, after dinner, two dances apiece with Duncan and Adam, and several more with some of the regulars, did she agree to sit up at the bar and discuss that marriage she had used to distract Duncan earlier.

"Where do you get all this energy, Aidan? Isn't it illegal?" Duncan ruffled her hair, which was hanging loose for once, still a little damp from the shower earlier that night.

"You run; I dance. It works." She laughed gleefully, the music from the band's final set and the pleasure of the dancing making her almost manic.

Methos said wryly, "You run, too, unless I misremember."

"Just because you used to chase me around until I got used to running every morning before you started swinging," and she pouted at him, lower lip out and eyes dancing with mischief.

Joe handed her some Irish coffee. "Here, drink some of this, and tell me about this marriage." He casually scanned the area to make sure no one would overhear this who shouldn't and signaled Mike that he was taking a break. Mike nodded, never dropping a beat in his conversation down at the end of the bar. "Three husbands, Aidan? Most of my customers have enough trouble keeping track of one!"

She sipped, then licked whipped cream off her lip. "Ah, that is good. And it can be argued as to who kept track of whom." She glanced over at Methos. "You remember them, don't you? Hajji, Ishak, and Arslan?"

He grinned at her, as full of mischief tonight at she was. "Of course I do. I remember that Gods-awful storm as well, and the superb bride-price they paid me for you. Four mares, a stallion, and a gelding out of that Caspian-Bedouin line that Ishak was so proud of."

Aidan's eyebrows went up. "Is that what happened? I wondered about that, but Arslan claimed it was man's business and I got... distracted from the question when I tried to pursue it." She looked down and away for a second, suddenly flushed. Joe grinned, having a very good idea what kind of distraction had caused that look on her face. She glanced back up, asking, "Bride-price?"

Methos shrugged, looking smug. "Well, you claimed me as a brother...."

"Hold it. Back up, start this at the beginning, and you stay out of it until she gets to your part." Duncan shook Methos' shoulder, amused and wanting the full story on this.

"Well, it was simple enough, I thought. I was traveling with a caravan in...," she paused for thought, muttering in two different languages briefly, "well, these days it's known as Georgia. We were about a week's travel south and a bit west of Tbilisi." She shrugged, assuming her best innocent look. "I had a certain amount of skill at haggling."

Methos snorted and she reached over and swatted him without missing a beat.

"Three sworn brothers out of Armenia -- well it is today, it's my story and live with it--" she waved a finger at Methos who promptly caught it, "were taking a dozen prize mares for sale in Constantinople." Aidan paused, distracted for a moment. "Or was it Istanbul at that point? I can never remember anymore."

Methos leaned over to grab his beer and commented, "Well, if you didn't always use that Turkish abbreviation of Stanpol you might have a better chance."

"My Turkish is better than yours. I didn't pick mine up from horizontal dictionaries."

She pulled her hand free and took a sip of her Irish coffee as Joe muttered something about, "Children, behave."

"In any case, we spent a fair amount of time together on the road, practicing languages on each other." She glared at Methos who obligingly looked innocent and stayed silent. "Fool that I am, I fell in love with all three of them, decided it was a hopeless situation and kept silent for once. What made it difficult on their part...."

Aidan looked at Joe and Duncan. "Neither one of you speaks Greek, do you?" Both shook their heads. "Duncan, didn't you pick up some Arabic at one point? You certainly laughed when I was discussing the US Postal Service the other day."

"Yeah, why?" The Scot looked interested in this digression.

"Hmm, if it isn't much then you're going to have to take my word on this, I'm afraid, unless you're inclined to trust the ancient one here...."

"Hey! I resent that adjective."

"Would you prefer decrepit?" Wicked humor stilled him. "I thought you'd prefer ancient. In any case, as I was trying to say, the word for brother in most of the Mediterranean languages sometimes meant genetic brother, but as often it meant trusted friend, lifetime companion, or lover. It was always and ever in the context. These three were everything except blood kin."

Aidan tilted her head to one side, seeing Duncan get flustered. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Come on, Aidan, I do live in the twentieth century. I'm even slowly pulling myself out of the seventeenth on most things." He was a little flushed, but not badly.

She noticed with interest that it looked like part of it might actually be arousal. _Now that will be worth remembering. Wonder if he's figured out yet where his body wants to take the relationship with Methos?_ "In any case, they thought they didn't like women."

Methos muttered, "They certainly changed their minds."

Aidan sighed and threw him an exasperated look. "Look, these two never lived through the period, so help me explain it anytime I get off track. But let me try, at least." Joe promptly handed Methos a beer to keep him quiet. The Watcher by God wanted to hear this.

"The main problem, and it was self-perpetuating, lay in the fact that men did not think women were capable of...." Aidan stopped, clearly at a loss for words for once. "Damn it, how shall I put this in English? Only men were thought to have the necessary strength of character to commit themselves to a relationship so fully? Oh, the hells with it, they used women as advantages, as connections to property, and as a means to get heirs, but friendship and love, the kind that didn't mind sacrifice, were thought to be masculine traits. Marriages didn't depend on sleeping together, especially in Rome, Greece, and Egypt, and to a lesser degree elsewhere around the sea. It was marital affection that validated a union, and property contracts that validated a marriage. It was considered scandalous to be in love with your wife."

She wound down, looking frustrated. "I can say it in Greek; I can say it in Latin; but English? Feh! The concepts are too inconsistent across the mindsets of the languages."

Methos handed her the beer, looking amused. "Shall I try?"

Aidan threw up her hands -- figuratively. One beer spilled in a night was plenty. "Please. By all means. You can't do any worse!"

"The problem is that you're complicating this unnecessarily. Don't argue, drink the beer. Friendship was considered an essential part of love, whether erotic or platonic. So, love required friendship, but to be friends you had to be equals. Women were not considered capable of being equal with men -- not in strength, not in character, not in honor. Ergo, a woman could not be a friend. Ergo, you did not love women.

"Well, in English it would be 'fall in love'. Bear in mind, what today are called friends would have been considered acquaintances then. You didn't have many friends, usually one or two. Of course, a friend in those days thought nothing of rearranging their life and affairs to spend all their time with you. Check your ancient literature and history, although the literature is much more telling. They campaigned together, lived together, adopted each other to settle properties and wealth. Men would rescue a 'brother' over a wife or children. The family could be replaced, so far as they were concerned."

Duncan held still, unable to control the startled look on his face. So many things which had puzzled him about Methos' behavior fell neatly into place, settling with nearly audible snaps. This definition of 'friend' explained the time Methos had offered his head, the times he had bailed the younger immortal out when he was over his head. It even explained how Methos could leave Alexa in Greece and come help during that dark quickening.

Joe was nearly as surprised, but for different reasons. Every Watcher worth their salt dreamed of sitting down with an immortal and asking questions like this. What was the world like? Why did you do this? What was the point of doing that this way? But if Aidan had lived through this time period, how old was she?

Methos broke off his lecture at the startled looks Mac and Joe were giving him. "What? I assure you, that's how the majority thought for quite a while. In some ways, they still do. Edana and I traveled as brother and sister because it was understood that I'd fight for my sister. My wife I might have been willing to lend to another bed if there were advantage in it for me but my mother's daughter had my blood. Look at the Celts and the inheritance going to the sister's son."

Aidan handed Joe a five. "Buy him another beer. Thank you, Magister, I couldn't seem to find a way to phrase it.

"You see, Arslan, Hajji, and Ishak wanted a woman who would hold to the standards they expected of a man. They wanted someone who would be as faithful as a man in the field of war, in the bed, in the market, or in love. The women of the time weren't brought up that way. So they stayed with each other." She shrugged.

"Then we were ambushed. I had no intention of dying, or seeing them die. I certainly wasn't going to be enslaved again." Methos very casually draped his arm around her shoulders, just as Duncan wrapped his arm around her waist. Her hands were very still around her coffee cup. "So, the four of us were holding one corner of the caravan, along with the guards, and the other, male, merchants. I was still using scimitar in those days, and spears and throwing knives and anything else I could grab...."

"To shorten a long story, they already liked me. Finding out that I would stand shield to them and leave a pile of corpses behind made them even more fond of me. They said that any one of them would marry me, except that they had sworn to share everything. So I did the only thing I could think of, for which I plead exhaustion. I offered to marry all three of them."

Aidan shrugged, sounding amused, rueful, and faintly guilty all at once. "Well, it did seem like a good idea. We discussed it for much of the rest of the trip to Constantinople; only fair, they needed to know they'd be getting a wife who wasn't a virgin and couldn't have children. And wouldn't take orders." Her mouth quirked at a memory. "Arslan said I wasn't getting virgins either, so he didn't see how they could complain. And Hajji just shrugged and made the comment that they certainly weren't going to have children if they didn't marry, so that wouldn't be a change. Ishak told them to quit discussing it, we were all getting married and that was an end to it, and when was I going to show him that disarm technique?"

Duncan laughed despite himself. "I can believe you married them! But how did you manage three of them? Did they ever get jealous?"

Aidan drank the rest of her Irish coffee and held the mug out to Joe with a plaintive look. "Please, sir, can I have some more?" Methos snickered at the Oliver Twist imitation, but didn't say anything. Joe gave his watch a significant look, then picked up the decaf coffee pot and raised an eyebrow.

"That's fine, and honestly, I can do without the alcohol, too. Someone has to drive. Whipped cream, though, definitely. Since it's late, let's shorten this extremely. No, they did not get jealous, because I worked like a madwoman to ensure I didn't scant or favor any one of them over the other two. Harder feat than any other three of my marriages put together and worth every moment of it."

Aidan jabbed a thumb at Methos, who let go of her shoulders to catch her hand. "A few years after I married them, he staggered in out of one of those mountain thunderstorms you get in the peaks in the summer. I felt an immortal in the area, and came running to see who it was." She raised an inquiring eyebrow at Duncan. "May I assume that, at your age, you've had the misfortune to run into some of us who like to kill any of our mortal friends and loves first to undermine morale before the challenge?"

Duncan nodded, looking grim. "Several. Slan Quince and Felicia Martens come most immediately to mind."

"Then you know why I was so worried when I felt another immortal in the area. Anyway, he tottered in, I don't even think he'd been sure I was there."

Given the hour, Joe poured himself a Coke. No point getting a DUI ticket. He slid Aidan's coffee across the bar to Methos since the guys had her surrounded. She didn't seem to mind.

Methos let go of her hand and passed her the coffee. "Drink this, now I get to tell my part. I knew from rumor and gossip that she was somewhere in the area. There weren't that many females in those days with a reputation for sword work and healing. However, I was in no shape to care. I had played tag with lightning all afternoon and was 'it' again. By the time I realized there was an immortal in the area, I barely cared. Fortunately, Aidan's presence is rather distinctive."

Duncan replied emphatically, "That's one word for it." Joe raised an eyebrow and all three immortals shrugged. The Highlander said, "Sorry, Joe, it really is indescribable. But memorable."

"I was conscious long enough to make sure it was her then I quite happily passed out. When I woke up, I was tucked into a very comfortable bed, in dry clothes that were entirely too big, and a huge man was sitting in a chair by the window sharpening a sword."

Joe flinched. "Oh, God, what did you do?"

Methos shrugged. "What I usually do in such circumstances. Nothing. I lay there and tried very hard to look unassuming and helpless. What would you do if a six foot eight inch man with shoulders like a bear was sitting there with a bastard sword and file? He finally noticed I was awake and asked how I was feeling. Incredibly gentle hands when he helped me sit up. Imagine my surprise when he referred to me as 'mate-brother' and asked if I was hungry or wanted to clean up?"

Aidan had leaned back against Duncan, eyes closed and a fond smile on her face as she remembered her husbands. She sipped her coffee occasionally, but seemed content to leave this part of the story to Methos.

"I adjusted to it quickly enough, Gods know she and I had both done this before. Run into the other with a spouse, that is. And we usually claimed to be siblings. I was fine until he insisted on helping me into the common room -- he didn't think I should be able to walk on my own yet -- and introduced me to Aidan's other husbands." Methos gave Aidan a dirty look she missed completely as her eyes were still closed, then continued.

"Just for your further confusion, Arslan was a huge blacksmith, and the linguist of the three. Ishak was very single-minded, enthusiastic about his projects, and the main mind behind the horse breeding. Very quick with a knife or a sword. Hajji was the smartest of the three, downright vicious about protecting the others, and did most of the training of the horses. He may have been the smallest, but he was also the quickest. All of them dark-haired, dark-skinned, and strong.

"For the times, they were quite prosperous. Plenty of food and a fair amount of variety, a good, solid house with two stories and four rooms. Including, I might add, running water; Aidan had explained to Arslan what kind of piping she wanted, and insisted on getting her way. They didn't seem to mind. And they bred some of the finest horses I've ever seen. Absolutely incredible, especially for the times."

Methos looked as smug as only he could. "And they insisted on paying me a bride-price for her. It was only fair, since they had, what was the word they used, appropriated such a talented member of my family."

Without opening her eyes, Aidan reached over and tickled Methos. He pinned her hand against the bar and continued. "I spent a few weeks with them, helping out with projects and talking to Aidan to be sure she was all right. Besides, she needed someone to spar with. Somewhere in there, though, they decided that I had survived the storm because I wasn't human but jinn. If Aidan was my sister, which they weren't arguing, so was she."

Joe choked on his Coke, and had to be patted on the back a few times before he could breathe again. Methos eyed him cautiously, then went on. "Well, they did. I had nothing to do with it, for once. I think it was finding the melted dagger on my belt when I arrived. Surprisingly enough, they didn't mind. If anything, they seemed complimented that a jinn had settled down with them. It did solve the problem of her not aging. Best cover either of us ever had."

"What about the time you passed for a god?" Aidan opened one eye to look at him.

"That one blew up in my face, as the Americans put it, yours didn't. Besides, you weren't there, where did you hear.... Ramirez. Damn." Methos looked over at Joe and Duncan. "No, I'm not telling either of you about that. And if you do, Edana, I will pull out stories about your training you have asked me for decades to forget. Need I remind you which ones?"

Aidan hastily signaled her surrender. "All right, all right. Pax, truce, what have you. Let's wrap this up, shall we? He stayed for a few months, and dropped back in every few years; more to visit my husbands than me I think." Methos smiled and inclined his head in his most irritating manner and she threw him a wicked smile. "When I finally figured out what my husbands wanted out of a wife, I took in two girls from the neighboring area whose family had died and raised them myself. They married in when they were fifteen or so."

Joe looked a bit surprised. "Wasn't that awfully young, Aidan?"

"Not in those days, Joe, and my husbands were in their mid-thirties by then. The age difference was actually fairly normal. Besides, the way I had raised them, they needed to stay with us. The first man who tried to rape Jahana or Sayyida, or 'discipline' them for that matter, was going to scream soprano all the way to his grave. We had something like a dozen children by the time Hajji died."

She smiled wistfully. "It was nice having a family and getting to raise children who were almost mine. I delivered every last one of them. Kept track of the entire family for years. Even after Islam finally made it that far, they never minded having a family jinn who showed up every generation or so with gifts and seeds and wanted to meet all the new members."

Joe looked at her thoughtfully. "Three questions, none of which are any of my business, Aidan."

She shrugged. "Ask away."

"What did you do when your husbands died? I mean, did you stay and protect your... sister-wives, I guess would be the best term?"

Slowly, she shook her head. "No, by the time Arslan died, the oldest boys were already in their mid-twenties and running the horsebreeding. I helped bury him, then Sayyida and Jahana handed me my packs and one of our daughters brought the horses. They said they knew I had only been staying until my last husband died, and they wouldn't hold me. All of the children could fight; there was nothing I could do to make them any safer than I already had. I headed straight to Constantinople and soaked Adrianna's robes for a while."

Joe winced in sympathy. "So what ever happened to the family? They still out there?"

"No, they died out during one of the Crusades, the Fourth I think. Some idiots who didn't acquire enough loot during the sack of Constantinople kept going south." Her body was very still. "The area had become too prosperous. Our family looked too inviting, and they were overrun. Or so the locals told me. It was old history to them by then, at least fifteen years."

Duncan rubbed her shoulders, keeping the movements gentle but continuous. He remembered losing some of his families too. Little Deer....

Joe asked his final question, knowing this one wouldn't hurt her nearly as much. "Last one, I promise. How old are you?"

Methos' head came up sharply and he narrowed his eyes at Joe. Joe deliberately rolled the wrist with the Watcher tattoo to catch the immortal's eye, and then slowly, almost imperceptibly, shook his head.

"Joe, put the Coke down, hmm? I would hate to be the cause of you choking." She waited until he had moved it away, then reached over and set it safely out of arm's reach for him. "How old do you think I am?"

"Islam made it into Armenia sometime in the 1000s, I think. Sounds like you were there before then, so at least a thousand. But I could swear you know Greek and Roman customs out of the Empire Periods. What are you, fifteen, seventeen hundred?"

Aidan's mouth twitched as she tried to follow his reasoning. "Not bad, but a bit too conservative. Why are you assuming Empire and not Republic? Both are wrong, mind; I date back to the kingdom. I'm a bit over twenty-six hundred, Joe."

Joe swallowed dryly, tried to speak, and couldn't manage it. After a long moment and two more attempts, he finally got out, "Well, they say older women are really something...."

Aidan chuckled. "Nice recovery. And I will freely admit, I learned more about men from that marriage than I had in my first several centuries.

"However, it's late, and we have work to do. So do you, Mike has carefully not asked you something at least twice now. I'll see you at home later. Adam, am I giving you a ride?"

"Oh, I don't see why not. Are you going to set the alarm for that ugly hour of morning again?"

"No, I was thinking more like eight instead of six this time. I have some errands to run in the morning. Unless you like hardware stores, you might want to see if Duncan will give you a ride."

MacLeod hastily spoke up. "That's fine. Did you make a spare key for your place yet?" She handed it to him with a smile. "Okay, I'll pick you up at eleven, Adam. That will still let us get some work done before she gets there and complains." Both the men grinned at her indignation.

"Night, Joe. Be thinking about what you want to hear tomorrow night, for your next bedtime story." Aidan collected Methos' arm. "See you in the morning, Duncan. Thanks again for the help today." The last thing she heard from Joe was what was intended to be a quiet question.

"Did you really pull a sword on Adam, or was that a part of the act earlier?" She didn't wait for the answer.

* * * *

Over the next week, the three immortals roughed Aidan's new house into shape. They sanded floors down to a shade they hadn't reflected in years. Ventilation holes funneled air up and down through the house, although grates hadn't been installed yet. All the walls had been sandblasted to remove the soot from the brick. Over the course of three very long days, Duncan and Methos replaced every window on the ground floor with smoke-tinted Lexan. At the same time, Aidan dealt with the windows on the upper floors, replacing any broken panes with regular glass.

All three of them installed the screens on the bottom windows and on the transoms. Aidan came up with some truly creative insults for ladders before that was over, especially after she had to wait for her arm to heal when she fell off laughing at one of Mac's stories. The change in light and shading made an astounding difference in the rooms, and the fresh air circulating through made the work much more bearable. Removing all the trash and old drywall gave the house an aura of patient readiness, much like that of a sculptor's marble waiting to be transformed.

At the same time Joe, Duncan, and Methos carried on a conspiracy to keep her from running herself or them into the ground. Duncan challenged her to cook something he couldn't identify or top. Joe ordered her to come listen to a new jazz combo. Methos went on strike until she took him to the new Mel Gibson movie. Not being a complete fool, Aidan realized what they were doing, but she knew she couldn't stop them.

Much to Joe's surprise, on a quiet Monday night she got up on stage and sang a Billy Joel set with him, then borrowed his guitar and performed an old Styx song, 'Boat on the River'. She had to bribe Methos to be quiet before she could stump Duncan in the kitchen, though. All three immortals traded stories and jokes, recipes and suggestions on the house, as they worked.

Duncan understood perfectly that after three centuries, Aidan and Methos had a lot of catching up to do. He hadn't pushed his friend to come stay on his couch, although he personally thought sharing a bed with Aidan and not doing anything might be torture. Watching the two of them over the week, he began to understand what he had to look forward to if he and Methos both kept their heads. The two older immortals traded jokes in obscure languages, insulted each other thoroughly but affectionately, and worked together like two sets of hands run by one brain when needed.

What took longer for Duncan to notice was the fact that Aidan made sure to include him on the punchlines or tease Methos into explaining old stories. She told him about immortals she had known, and what they had done or learned. In more than one case she made sure he knew what had killed them and why. Slowly, steadily, they began to move from being three sets of friendships to one intertwined team.

Methos watched and waited, not ready to push Aidan quite yet to find out what was bothering her. Twice he woke in the night to find her sitting, chin on fist, staring out the window and intent on her own thoughts. Both times he got up and brought her back to bed, rubbing her down until her skin warmed and her muscles relaxed. She didn't offer an explanation and he didn't ask. Whatever it was, she hadn't fought it to a standstill yet.

* * * *

The shower cut off finally, leaving a cloud of steam in the bathroom. The man who stepped in front of the mirror, toweling his hair off, studied his reflection carefully to make sure he had gotten the last stubble off while shaving. He stood perhaps 5' 10", with curly golden-brown hair threaded with a little silver at the temples. Clear blue eyes watched cynically from under straight brows as he parted his hair and pulled on a satin dressing gown.

Moving into his office, he turned to the computer he had powered up before climbing in the shower and accessed his email. Working quickly, he handled two routine queries, saved all his normal transactions, and stopped as he noted the sender's address on one message.

"So, one of the accounts is finally activated? Well, well, and here I thought the only hunting I'd get this summer was bear." Only when he smiled did the thin scar down one cheekbone show. He ran an affectionate hand down the pommel of his sword. "Now, which one was it?"

He opened the message and studied the data. "Ah. Elektra Mycenas or her heirs and assigns, to be identified by a numeric code which will be passed down through the family."

He moved over to a filling cabinet and searched through for Mycenas, E. "Ah, this one. What documents did my people get? Found in Paris in 1824 according to the church records. An 1836 confirmation record from San Michel and a daguerreotype given to the priest. Normal enough looking child, I see, and a typically childish attempt at writing. 'With thanks to F. Darius for his guidance.'

"Undoubtedly the old reformer sent her to one of his protégés for training. She opened the Munich account in 1883, accessed it once in 1938. Well, well, it seems A. Logan of Seacouver, Washington, USA, has an account with the Citizens Bank of Seacouver."

"Let the hunt begin." He pulled out the daguerreotype and tacked it neatly above his computer. Then he pulled a cream-colored card out of the folder that read, 'Elektra Mycenas, Paris, France; Milan, Italy.' He centered the card neatly under the picture and tacked it into place as well.

Working swiftly, he found the web site for the bank and got the phone number for its system. He routed his call through five satellites and set his computer to work breaking into the bank's systems while he got breakfast. Quite calmly, he ate, drank his coffee, and read the Toronto morning paper noting the deplorable state of affairs and the usual complaints against the government in Ottawa, Quebec, and the US. He changed into comfortable slacks and shirt before going back to his computer.

Working quickly, he took the access code acquired sometime during his morning paper and, using the bank account number he had originally received, he acquired a name and mailing address for one Aidan Logan, formerly of Syracuse, New York. The mailing address in Seacouver was a post office box, he noted with some annoyance.

Northwest Bell had no phone number for her. New England Bell had no number for her. Finally, searching Syracuse property records, he came up with a house which she had sold the previous month. Tracking the moneys from that took a little longer, but he eventually found them in a bank in Syracuse and from there started stalking a forwarding address.

"Well, well, an escrow and lien inquiry. So, how is she handling this, with no listed phone? Let's hunt calling cards."

It took his custom programs half the day to hunt down an A. Logan with cards issued in New York whose current billing address was in Seacouver, but he got in a good sword practice and reviewed the stock market trends while the machine hummed and clicked to itself. He placed a couple calls to brokers; the week in Alaska had kept him from paying the attention to the market he should have.

It was simplicity itself to hack into the long distance service's system and note the phone number from which she had placed the call to Germany. A call to the public library in Seacouver got him the street address for the number, out of the reverse phone book. It was not, to his surprise, a public phone.

"Joe's, hmm? Either a restaurant or a tavern. Let's see, shall we?" Activating a voder to disguise his voice, he dialed the number. He ran a finger along the scar on his cheek, a steady, repetitive stroking reminiscent of a Catholic telling prayer beads.

"Joe's, this is Renee."

"I'm looking for Aidan Logan. Is she in?" The voice came across as a reedy tenor; deliberately, he assumed a slight French accent.

"No, she left half an hour ago. Did you want to leave a message? She won't be back in until Tuesday."

"No, thank you, I'll catch up with her." He disconnected the phone and smiled. Pulling up a notepad on his computer, he began to make notes on what information to search for next. _Soon, Elektra Mycenas or Aidan Logan, your head will be mine. You're good. You're not good enough. There can be only one._

* * * *

Aidan shivered suddenly as she applied blue-tinted stucco to the wall on the first floor. For just a second she tasted blood in her mouth and her legs tingled with pins and needles as if they'd been asleep. Then the sensations were gone, as Duncan cursed explosively in Russian at the door he was trying to hang. By the time she had levered it off him and the two of them balanced the heavy steel long enough for Methos to knock the hinges into place, she had managed to forget it altogether.

* * * *

In Toronto, plans proceeded apace. Even as he settled his affairs to run without him for a few weeks more, the hunter cast about for his prey's spoor. A street address for Joe's Bar had been located; the CAA had obligingly supplied maps of Seacouver. The owner's name came off the deed in the city hall, and phone records, financial transactions, and (more tellingly) passport details had been unearthed. A blues club owner who traveled to Europe, Asia, and all over the US? Frequent calls to Paris and Lyon? How unusual. Perhaps he could hunt two immortals this time? It would require care and scouting, but outwitting the prey was so much of the fun.

He wrote the name down in a beautifully ornamented Gothic calligraphy. 'Joe's Bar, Seacouver, WA. Joseph Dawson, owner &amp; proprietor.' The note went over the computer as another focal point for his search, next to the cream card and picture of Electra Mycenas.

More information came in on Aidan Logan every day, but none of it was detailed enough to suit him. The identity was fairly new, no more than twenty years old, although the birthdate indicted she should be forty. New York tax records showed her to be self-employed as a transmuter. He had to laugh at the sheer gall of getting that profession listed in her papers. What exactly did she change into what?

Passport records indicated that 'transmuting' paid relatively well. She had a fondness for Ireland and Scotland, for Brazil and Indonesia. An interesting scattering. The woman traveled to water, from the looks of it. Very interesting. The insurance data on her old house would be very useful but he hadn't cracked their system just yet. Pity. An item-by-item listing could tell him what weapons she wielded.

Then he got the piece of data he'd been wanting. The court computers in Seacouver showed a title transfer into her name and the Syracuse account dropped precipitously. Within two days the Syracuse account was closed, all funds transferred to Seacouver -- with one exception. Three thousand dollars went to Nash Antiques in New York.

"Well, well. Perhaps I should drop down and pay a visit? I do have a vested interest in antiques." He considered it for a few minutes. No, not without more information. There was no point in being distracted off a hunt. It could be as simple as a weapon she'd been wanting to acquire. God knew, some of them did work on commission.

Finally, in that same elegant Gothic lettering, he wrote himself a note and pinned it above the computer. 'Nash Antiques, New York City, NY. Russell Nash, owner &amp; proprietor.' _I will come back to this one, perhaps this fall, perhaps sooner. It may be simple. It may not. However, I have your address, now, Elektra._

* * * *

Joe watched with great interest from the door of the dojo. Aidan and Mac were surprisingly well matched in a fight. He was taller, stronger, with a longer reach. She consistently moved a bare fraction faster than he could match, however. She fought in a particularly tricky style, closing on him to score with her dagger, then deflecting him with her sword long enough to get back out. It made for an extremely wide-ranging match, and she thought nothing of going over, around, or under the weight equipment in the dojo. At one point, she had deliberately shouldered the heavy punching bag into him and tried to hook his legs out from under him as his center of balance changed, only to hit the floor herself as he kicked the bag back into her.

Methos sat on one of the benches, watching intently and coaching both of them. The sweat-soaked towel around his shoulders told Joe the three of them had been at this for a while. Blood stains were drying into his shirt, and the other two didn't look any better. A dark, dried line ran down Aidan's waist to her leg, and the sleeves of Duncan's shirt were in bloody tatters.

Duncan deflected Aidan's dagger with his forearm as his knee came up into her thigh. To his surprise, she ducked her head and let his momentum throw her to the side. She rolled over her own weapons and came up on one knee, thrusting her saber into his side. He folded over the wound but brought his katana down toward the right side of her throat, where her sword arm was already trapped in him. She dropped forward, yanking the saber with her, and rolled desperately out and away. As she twisted past him, though, she jabbed her knife into his lower thigh, which brought her arm up in a block as she kept going.

Methos whistled sharply, and both of them froze. "Enough for the moment, you two. Nice job, Duncan, although your low blocks need work. Edana, what the hell were you doing using a stop-thrust?"

Aidan flopped onto her back, arms outstretched with her sword still in her hand. "Agreed, that was stupid. I could hear Ramirez while I was still trying to recover my momentum." She lowered her voice and the accent changed slightly as she recited, "'Your defense is speed. Not height, not weight, not strength: movement. The moment you stop moving, you're dead.'"

Duncan sat on the bench, her main gauche beside him. He propped the injured leg carefully as it healed, and looked down at his side. "I don't know, you can't have been that sloppy. That side shot surprised the hell out of me and I'm the one who has all the holes in him. How did you do that?"

"A woman has to have her secrets, Duncan. Actually, I'm not sure you could use it. It works on lines of sight and relative heights." She pushed herself up, breathing finally slowing, and frowned at him. "You do realize I'd have never pulled that off if we hadn't been fighting with swords? If this were unarmed combat, you'd have been more prepared to block a shot from that angle. I swear, I'm going to run tumbling attacks against you for the next week or so. Damn nice strike to the thigh, though."

Joe walked over to the bench and threw towels to both of them. "Well, I'm impressed. How long since you've practiced, Aidan? Or do you prefer Edana?"

She pushed up to her feet, wiping her face with the towel. "I've been running katas in your living room every morning, but I haven't had a sparring session this good in more than a month." She picked up the big bottle of lemonade Gatorade and drained half a liter. "Here, Duncan." She passed it to him, and the Highlander tilted his head back, putting a serious dent in it himself. "And Aidan is better, Joe. Best there be no confusion on what I'm called. It makes people suspicious when your friends can't seem to decide what your name is."

She laughed quietly. "They start wondering what you're hiding, and then I have to dig up my own blackmail in self-defense." She moved behind Methos and dug her hands into his shoulders, loosening tight muscles until he sighed and shifted on the bench to give her better access. Since that put him behind Duncan, Methos reached out and went to work on him, searching out sore spots and tension. Mac leaned forward, propping an arm on the wall as he relaxed into the rub-down.

Joe watched, amused, as it finally penetrated to all three of them what he was doing there. Aidan twigged first, her face dismayed as she looked around for a watch or clock. "Oh, Gods, Joe, it's after seven, isn't it?"

He grinned at her and indicated the windows. Full night had fallen; the streets were illuminated only by the streetlights as a light rain fell. "Aidan, I hate to tell you this, but it's nearly nine."

Methos shook his head tiredly. "Damn. I assume dinner is ruined. MacLeod, time to switch out, no one's gotten Aidan yet. Joe, our apologies."

Duncan laughed. "You're missing this, you two." He looked up at Joe, hands working almost automatically along Methos' spine. "Did you actually start it, or did you just assume we'd be late again?"

Joe shook his head, still grinning. "Nothing's ruined. You can't hurt beef stew by leaving it in the crock pot, and the salad's in the fridge. If you three will get your butts in gear, _Victor/Victoria_ is playing at ten on TNT."

Aidan whimpered under Methos' fingers as he eased the cables she'd been using for shoulders. "That sounds wonderful, Joe. Oh, damn, if it's nine here, it's midnight in New York. Can someone pass me my coat, please? He's going to kill me...."

Duncan reached under the bench with one hand, and passed her coat over. Aidan pulled out a rubber case and retrieved her cellular phone, punching a number in. She waited while it rang, grimacing at the time it took. "Gods, if I don't call I'll never hear--"

She paused, listening to the other person on the line. "Your clansman, with those fast hands of his." She fell silent for a second, then laughed gleefully. "It was worth it to hear you sputter. How are you? ... No, everything's fine, but you left a few things out when you trained him, so I'm correcting that."

She hastily held the phone away from her ear. When the noise subsided, she put it back. "Anyway. Did I interrupt something? ... Damn, I was hoping I had. You don't date enough. ... This is not about me, and anyway, I'm the older. I have certain responsibilities, like keeping an eye on you. ... Well, I can't help it if you lost your belt in that fight! ... Anyway, I think you can send my gear out on the 15th. That should get it here the 19th. ... Did you get the cashier's check? Good. ... All right, I'll call on time next time, I promise. What, a week again? ... Take care, brother mine, I'll call you next Thursday. Try to make me interrupt something, hmm?"

She hit the off button, still grinning. "Oh, I love picking on Connor! He falls for it so beautifully! All right, you two, let's go get cleaned up and watch Robert Preston. Toddy has got to be one of the best roles on Broadway! Adam, shall we flip to see who gets the shower first?"

Methos raised an eyebrow. "I was going to help you get the blood out of your hair, but if you'd rather do it yourself...."

Joe laughed listening to the two of them argue on the way out. "We'll see you over there, Mac. Don't take too long, or they won't leave you anything."

* * * *

"Just a moment, sir. You requested a ground floor suite, near one of the doors?"

He stood there, well-dressed and assured to the point of arrogance. "Yes, I did. Is there some problem? I was assured that a room fitting my needs was available."

"No, sir, no problem at all. I just wanted to make sure the clerk had written the details down correctly. Here's your key, sir, room 118. Welcome to Seacouver, Mr. Clausewitz. We hope you enjoy your stay." The desk clerk waited until the guest had walked out to his car, then sighed. This was going to be a very difficult customer, definitely.

* * * *

Aidan rotated her shoulders, loosening tension as she went. One of the nicer things about being immortal was how quickly muscles aches and tears healed, assuming you actually got some short time to let them. However, even an immortal hurt after two days of applying tiles and staining floors. No one had ever found a comfortable position for doing floors in the two and a half millennia she had been around. Fortunately, Methos had resisted the temptation to tell her to hire someone; he knew how she felt about letting unknown people handle her belongings.

She was not looking forward to installing a security system. That would have to be done by experts, but she was already designing what she wanted it to do, and looking around for contractors. She might not do it herself, but she'd be there the entire time they were, and she'd check all the circuits once herself to be sure it did what she wanted.

What worried her more, though, was the timetable. Even with both Duncan and Methos helping her eight and twelve hours a day, the 'to-do' list was taking too long. A week and a half left to Solstice? She might yet have to ask Connor for help.

The men had taken advantage of the free evening to go play chess at Duncan's while the wood stain dried, and she had gone on to Sears to purchase appliances for the house. Aidan had even been able to arrange delivery for the next day. Of course, she had just bought both a washer and dryer, a huge refrigerator/freezer, a dishwasher, and a gas stove -- with cash. She grinned at the thought of Duncan's face; he had continued to tease her unmercifully about the food, although she knew full well he was actually enjoying it.

She headed on to her next stop, the hardware store that knew her by first name now. Time to stock in the necessary wire to start running outlets and 220v cables, and arrange delivery on the sheetrock. Aidan had also brought a tape measure. She needed to check the large jacuzzi tub, and figure out what size the platform would need to be, and the steps. She and Methos both came from the age of social bathing, and she planned on introducing the MacLeods to the concept, if they hadn't already....

Immortal presence brushed just along her range as she parked at the hardware store. Male, young, not nearly as strong as Duncan, much less Methos. What the hell? She controlled her reaction, but as she got out of the car, she 'dropped' a coin.

As she knelt to pick it up, she finished scanning most of the circle. Who was he? Where was he? No one stepped into sight, she heard no voice giving a name or calling a challenge. Aidan stood back up, pressing back with her shoulders for the reassuring feel of her sword under her shirt. As she walked to the doors of the hardware store, the presence flared closer. A car engine revved once and she stepped quickly in between two cars so that she wouldn't be too tempting a target.

She watched as a dark green car headed out of the parking lot, turning before she could see the license plate on the front bumper. Feeling the presence fade, Aidan cursed herself for not learning more about cars. She could drive one, change oil, replace a tire. Beyond that, she had paid more attention to electronics than mechanics. She had no idea what kind of vehicle that was, other than foreign built. So, was someone issuing challenge? Or had she startled him even more than he had startled her? And did she tell Duncan? Or Methos? Or Joe? Now what?

Her thoughts ran along three different tracks at once as she walked in the door, none of them having to do with the house. Fortunately, she had, as usual, brought a list of what she needed and what measurements to take. The stockers knew her; DeAngelo grinned and held out a hand for her check sheet. "Hey, Aidan, how's it going, crazy woman? When you gonna break down and go out with me?"

Automatically, she forced herself back into her public persona, laughing and joking with him as they filled her order and agreed to deliver the sheetrock in two days. The older gentleman at the help desk asked how it was going, and offered a couple suggestions on glass bricking for the shower area. Two of the stockers gave her a hand loading the wiring and duct venting into her truck.

She drove the city for an hour, not wanting to go back to Joe's just yet, not wanting to go to Duncan's gym either. Nowhere did she see the green car behind her, yet something worried her. This was not an idle encounter. The premonition rode her hard, and again she tasted blood in her mouth, felt pain and fear lingering over her shoulders. For just a moment, the scent of ozone rode the air. Well, no surprise that a death would come of this. It usually did when two immortals met....

* * * *

"Joe's, this is Mike."

"Mike Barrett?" The man's voice was pleasant, cultured, with a hint of accent.

Mike raised an eyebrow at that response. "Yeah, what can I do for you?"

"My name is Mikhail myself, Mikhail Pashkov. I Watch Karl Gustav von Stengel. You will want to intensify the surveillance on your subject, I suspect. Gustav only leaves Toronto to hunt, whether animals or longer-lived prey."

Mike blinked, then his eyes narrowed. "Thank you for the warning, Mikhail. Call if you need any help, since you're out of your own area."

"A kind offer, and I shall take you up on it if needed." Then there was only dial tone.

Mike immediately called Joe to pass on the word, knowing Joe would look into Gustav and tell him what he needed to know. Maybe Aidan would be willing to help out with tending the bar for a while? No, they'd have to explain....

* * * *

Gustav drove through the night, studying the terrain around his prey's new property. So, there were plenty of good places to drive her to ground. Time enough tomorrow to bug her car and see where she went and when. _Always there is the path to the watering hole, to the den. No one is cautious in these safe, enlightened times. The more fool they._

Already possibilities occurred to him, places to push, ways to strike. Time now to watch. He knew what she looked like, had followed her easily enough on her way to the hardware store. She had felt him, he knew, but this Aidan Logan didn't have the right instincts. She had walked on in as if nothing had happened. She hadn't looked for him, had only stepped out of the way as if he were any mortal driver.

_What if she is essentially untrained? What if she merely moves around to hide what she is, not knowing all of it? Where is the pleasure in prey that doesn't fight? If the old priest had her trained, will she fight? Regardless, she is almost two hundred. I'll have her quickening, if nothing else. And if she won't give me a fight, then I'll take something else of her before she dies...._ He smiled viciously, remembering the quick easy stride from her house to the car, from her car to the store. _I would lay odds she runs like a gazelle...._

Late into the night, he planned.

* * * *

Methos passed Duncan the hammer before he could even ask. "Don't ask why she's doing this. Just trust me, you'll be glad you helped with it later."

Duncan grinned at him, and set the container of nails down. Pounding the nails into place with an easy competence, he stated, "The other hammer is in Aidan's toolbox over there, since you're finished cutting boards."

"As soon as I get both of us something to drink. Gods, but it's hot today."

Duncan raised his voice as he worked. "Is she corrupting you?" He continued to place and fasten boards to the raised platform, making sure to leave access to the plumbing connections.

Methos muttered into the refrigerator, "Never in the last two thousand years, more's the pity." More loudly he replied, "Corrupting how, MacLeod? Here, have some orange juice." The older immortal picked up the other hammer and went to work on the platform for the tub, looking forward to getting the house finished. Aidan always planned them well -- for comfort as well as efficiency -- but even for her, this one had promise.

"Since when do you swear by Gods?" Duncan sounded entertained more than anything else. "And I know perfectly well that she isn't buying a tub this big for just herself. I can't wait to see Connor's reaction to this place. He's going to look at the bathtub and drool."

"MacLeod, I was swearing by and at a Goddess before Edana was born."

"Yeah, I know, you were swearing at a Goddess before there were rocks, too, to hear you tell it." Duncan kept working, half-expecting a friendly scuffle. Instead, he felt Aidan's presence ripple through the house, then heard her voice calling, "Can you two give me a hand with these bricks, please?"

Both of them shrugged, then put their hammers down. After they had moved the glass blocks and sealant over to the tiled shower area, Aidan got out three beers and handed them around. She leaned back against the platform looking more serious than usual. "Methos, when's the last time you stepped between me and a challenge?"

His eyes narrowed. "I haven't taken one of your challenges in at least eight centuries."

"Good. Keep it that way. Duncan, do you know of any young male immortals in town, driving an expensive looking foreign-made car, dark green? Younger than you, I think, or maybe the same age but not so many heads taken." Her voice was grim, husky with irritation.

"No, I don't. What's happened?"

"I knew in mid-May I had a deadline to move out of Joe's. Apparently I was wrong on the date. I'll be borrowing a sleeping bag if you can spare one, but I'm sleeping here tonight, regardless. Methos, you'll want to be out of there as well. Duncan, he needs a place to stay if you would?" She met the younger man's eyes unflinchingly. "How much do we tell Joe? He'll want to know what's going on."

Methos reached over and put a hand over her mouth. Her eyes blazed, then she deliberately relaxed. "All right, Aidan, try this from the top. Did you have one of your foreseeings?" He let go of her and waited.

She drew a deep breath, and took a sip of her beer. "I haven't 'seen' anything yet, just... foreboding. Premonition. Blood in my mouth, scent of lightning in the air."

Duncan stared. "You've the Second Sight, woman? You never said anything."

"Duncan, even for an immortal, I'm an odd one. And I rarely like what I see, and it's not always going to happen. Sometimes it's fixed, sometime it's mutable. It doesn't happen often enough to be useful. It's nothing but a nuisance." Her voice sounded miserable, and Mac found himself wondering for a brief moment how it would feel to be as separate from other immortals as immortals were from mortals. Without a word he stepped forward and hugged her.

"It's all right, Aidan, we love you even if you do have eyes in the back of your head." He said it in a completely serious voice and it took her a second to start chuckling.

Methos watched the by-play, glad to see her shaken back to herself, then pulled the discussion back on track. "So what has happened? Why are we changing sleeping quarters post haste?"

"Sunday, when you two were playing chess and I was buying such kitchen necessities as stoves, I went on to the hardware store to get the ducting and wire. Do you remember?" She stepped free of Duncan's arms, pacing as she thought.

"I remember. You took forever on that errand. We were joking that you ran for Canada rather than face your own work list." Methos watched her, waiting for the bad news that had to be coming.

"When I parked at the hardware store, an immortal came into range. Deliberately, I'd say now. I wasn't sure then. I looked around without letting him know it...."

Duncan interrupted. "You're sure it was a he?"

"I always know what gender, and usually I get some feel for how strong or old they are. Ramirez taught me how, it's part of why Methos took me to him. In any case, I've been a spy often enough to look around without getting caught. I couldn't find him. No one appeared, no one challenged. When I was within, say, twenty feet of the store, he left in a hurry. Dark green car, four door, mud on the license plate, which was on the front of the car anyway. Foreign make. I wondered if I had simply frightened him."

She stopped pacing for a moment to face Methos. "And before you say it, Magister, no, I didn't believe it for a minute, and no, I haven't been letting my guard down. But I didn't want to alarm you two or Joe until I had to. Now I have to."

Methos watched her, grim. "Why?"

"For the last two hours, while I was doing setup and on the way over here, he's been sliding in and out of range. He's stalking me." Rage tamped down, became cold intent. "I stopped at an alley along the way, where no one can see from the street. He never came. He means to play cat and mouse until I lose my wits, and thus his challenge."

She paced in controlled, lithe motions that told Methos she wanted blood. "I can't be sure he won't come after Joe, and most of us can't differentiate at a distance, therefore you are moving out as well. Duncan's been wanting your company in any case, and I've been selfish to hog you."

Duncan wrapped his hand around her arm and decided that she couldn't be too badly out of control; she hadn't spun on him when he stopped her pacing. "Aidan. Stop and think. I know you two, both your bags are packed with the possible exception of shampoo and toiletries. Joe's still at home, Methos; call him, get him to bring your gear to the bar with him. Both of you will come stay with me. He can challenge you..." and MacLeod bared his teeth in a feral smile that Aidan echoed, realizing he wouldn't take her chosen target, "... but the two of us can watch and see that it's fair."

Methos looked back and forth between them and then smiled, vicious himself. "Age before beauty, Highlander. If he does manage to win, I get next shot at him. I've not missed her company for three centuries to have her quickening end up with you."

Aidan laughed, a soft, thirsty sound and stretched exorbitantly high, balanced on the balls of her feet, back arched, head back, arms wide and reaching for the world. "Oh, it's been too long. Lawful prey again, and he's all mine." She laughed again, that feral, predatory sound and purred, "Oh, you fool, you utter fool to warn me...." She settled back down onto her heels, still laughing softly as she stalked the room, stretching to pull the tension out of her arms and shoulders.

Methos reached for her cell phone. "Joe, it's Adam. We thought you'd like a respite from house guests. If you'll throw our bags into your car, we'll get them at the bar tonight. ... We're going to impose on Duncan, since Aidan insists on being in her new place by Solstice. ... No, I thought if she was going to work us to death we'd get revenge by making her sleep on the couch or the floor over here. Also it's simply more convenient for coordinating with Duncan, and she can be insistent when she's in a hurry. ... All right, we'll be by tonight to get them. Thanks, Joe."

He looked at the other two. "Done. He even sounded slightly relieved. Joe's lived alone too long, I think. He's gotten used to having a house to himself. Now, then, let's work like the mad on this place until just before dusk and then get the bags. I think a movie is in order tonight, don't you?"

Aidan smiled at him. "I love changing the rules on them, don't you?"

Methos shrugged, elaborate innocence personified. "Whatever could you be talking about? Making him look for you in places where you can see him when he comes in the door? I love silhouettes, one of the better things about the Victorian era."

Suddenly serious, he said, "Can you tuck me and Duncan up your sleeve as it were?"

"Not let him know how many immortals there are? Yes, for a little while. If he sticks to today's pattern, which I admit I won't bet on, yes." She smiled. "Let's work, then. The bathtub gets delivered tomorrow."

"Cutting it close weren't you?" Duncan gave her a mock salute as he went back to work on the platform.

"Not as close as I'll cut something else, mo cridhe. Hmm, shall we spar to see who sleeps on the couch? Winner gets the couch so as not to listen to the other two snore?" All three of them laughed and went back to work, hands periodically checking swords.

* * * *

Joe pulled Methos aside when he came in to collect their bags. "What the hell's going on?"

He glanced around to see who was listening, decided it was safe enough and replied quietly, "We're keeping you out of harm's way as best we can. An immortal is in the process of challenging Edana. From his behavior none of us are sure he'll leave mortals out of this. Joe, he was stalking her during setup today."

Joe's temper flared. "Oh, was he? In my place.... Wait -- he? You're sure?"

"Aidan is. Her judgment is good. And just outside your place, ghosting in and out of range." He shrugged. "Duncan and I simply intend to keep him honest. Aidan said to tell you she will be here for setup, without fail, and you're not to worry."

"Are you worried?" Joe watched carefully, wanting the truth. Aidan had been Methos' student, he ought to be a reliable indicator on this.

"No. She's angry, but not in a rage. She hasn't lived this long by being easy prey." Wisely, he didn't tell Joe not to worry. "And no, we're not asking if you know anyone is in town. By your reaction, I can tell you do. Leave your oath intact on this one, Joe."

"Be careful, Adam, there's another Watcher in town."

"Oh, we'll be most careful. Night, Joe." As he turned to leave, Methos threw a sardonic comment over his shoulder. "Watch your head."

* * * *

_So the prey is in motion?_

He cursed softly. She had knowledge, she'd had courage enough to wait for him this afternoon, but now she surrounded herself with friends. Wherever she had been staying, she was moving now. Two duffel bags were slung over her shoulders. He'd follow her truck and see where she went, then, but he was going to have this head.

The sensor led him to another brick building; the sign read 'DeSalvo's Gymnasium.' He recognized both her truck and the black Thunderbird that had been parked outside her new property the last few days. A mortal lover? An immortal one? He parked a block away and scouted the area, staying in the shadows as he went.

Her presence wrapped through the building for as far as he could feel. So, one immortal but stronger than he had expected. This was manageable after all. What a pity, though, that the bartender, Joe Dawson, had not been one of his kind. Two in one trip would have been a rare pleasure. He turned away, knowing she had felt him. Let her wonder when he would come. When she was fatigued, unpredictable, more dangerous as prey, he would strike. In his time, not hers.

* * * *

Aidan opened her eyes, worn to the bone. "Done. He came by, brushed me and left again."

Methos caught Duncan's eye and they both got up from the chess game. "Good. If he follows the usual pattern, he'll think you'll stay up all night now. Surprise. You won't."

She yawned widely, then covered her mouth with the back of her hand, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, I seem to be tired."

Duncan rolled his eyes. "You've been sleeping less than either of us for weeks now and you spent the day playing bait. Of course you're tired, Aidan. There's no need to apologize. Come on, acushla, we're tucking you into bed."

She shook her head, tired and obstinate. "I already said I'm taking the couch."

Duncan tilted his head in her own mannerism and replied, "I know perfectly well you two were sharing a bed at Joe's. If we're putting two in the bed, it's you and Methos. A couch won't hurt me. I'm the youngest of us; my back will be fine in the morning."

She giggled at that, but pushed herself to her feet and staggered the few steps to the couch and dropped onto it. "I am not..." and she yawned again, "... putting you out of your own bed, MacLeod. It's rude."

Methos sighed and commented, "So is arguing with your host. I have a suggestion that might settle this." He waited for them to say anything, then suggested, "Why don't I sleep in the middle? There's enough room for all three of us, and if someone wakes in the middle of the night and needs more room, or just wants to sit and think, he or she can take the couch then. That way MacLeod's chivalry and your good manners are taken into account and everyone ought to be satisfied."

She smiled at him, half-asleep already. "You just want to sleep on the bed because you've slept on too many floors."

"Absolutely. Come on, Edana, hold onto me." Methos hauled her to her feet and slung her arm around his shoulder. He turned to tell Duncan to get her other arm, but it was unnecessary. Together, the two men walked her to the bed, finally realizing that she had burned the last of her energy wrapping her presence around the building. Methos held her up as Duncan turned down the covers, then settled her against the pillows so that she was almost upright.

"Duncan, will you dig her brush out of that bag? It should be in a side pouch." When the Highlander returned with it, Methos quickly brushed out and braided her hair, tying it off with the ponytail holder she always left wrapped around the brush handle. While the oldest immortal was busy with that, Duncan brought over her saber and tucked it under the bed on her side, pointing out to her exactly where the hilt was. The Scot settled behind her to prop her up; Aidan kept trying to curl up and go to sleep right then and there, and at the very least they needed to get her shoes off.

Aidan murmured thanks in a dialect of Gaelic so old that Duncan barely recognized it, her eyes closing despite her best efforts. Methos unlaced and removed her boots, then quite calmly started removing the rest of her clothes. The Scot raised an eyebrow as the older immortal continued to strip her down to the skin.

"Should I get a night shirt for her?"

Methos shook his head. "No, she only sleeps in clothes under duress. She'd just toss and turn and pull any shirt off during the night. Trust me, neither of us would get any sleep until she was content."

Duncan couldn't resist looking. He'd seen her stripped down to almost nothing before, working on the house or when she pulled off her shirt to spar the other night. Seeing her relaxed against his chest naked was incredibly erotic and at the same time, his protective instincts roused. He already knew about long well-muscled legs, smoothly curved hips, a trim waist. (He hadn't seen the gold chain which dangled below her navel before; four emeralds, at least five carats each, hung from it.)

What he hadn't noticed earlier was that a thin curved scar ran along her bottom right rib up to the base of her sternum. It looked like Aidan had been in a knife fight in her first life, or tried to slip through a passage not quite wide enough for her. Her breasts appeared to be a bit on the small side of average, although that might just be the contrast with wide shoulders.

Methos knew perfectly well that Edana wouldn't mind, so while he removed her hideout daggers he let MacLeod look his fill. The waist chain and her necklace he left on because she would notice if they were gone. When he thought the Highlander had finished gaping, at least for now, Methos scooped her up bodily and settled her into the covers. She turned onto her side, tucking her hand under the pillow with a murmuring sound. Eyebrows drew down into a frown, although her eyes never opened as she reached for something under the pillow that wasn't there.

Duncan got up and retrieved her sheathed dagger. As soon as he slid it into her hand under the pillow, Aidan relaxed. Methos pulled the sheet up around her shoulder as her breathing evened into the cadence of deep sleep. Both men watched for a moment to be sure she would stay asleep, then looked at each other. Mouth twitching with a repressed smile, the older immortal only said, "I believe it was your move?"

* * * *


	2. Chapter 2

Aidan worked quickly and surely at Joe's. She had been doing this for just over a month, now. She knew where every supply was and had the bar inventory down by rote unless Joe just decided to rearrange it on her. In here she could and did blow off some steam by being thoroughly silly. This was an old and familiar song the other immortal played, and she knew all the steps of the dance, including how to control her own reactions to it.

Mike couldn't help grinning as Aidan imitated old Fred Astaire routines with the push broom, sang along with Fleetwood Mac on an old song of theirs that always reminded him of the people he Watched, and in general seemed to be in a fine and frivolous mood today.

"Hey, Mike, how's my tab look?" She spun around, not quite dancing as she came back toward the bar to dump the dirt she had swept up.

"Well, it would look better if you'd quit spotting Pierson beers," and he grinned at her, "but you're doing fine. Good thing, too, no one's going to take any more bets from you!"

She laughed, clear and reckless today. "Ah, well, he's a gorgeous thing when he smiles; I can't seem to resist buying some of the time. Nice of him to help while he's catching up on news with MacLeod. And I only do bets like that when the mood strikes, but that was simply too good to pass up."

Aidan emptied the dust bin and set the broom and pan neatly in place. "Will you bill me six reubens to go, with potato chips and such? I think all three of us are getting tired of cold sandwiches."

"Sure, go tell Tony what you want. How's the house going?"

She called over her shoulder, "Not too badly, I may actually be moved in by Midsummer's."

Mike called one last comment to her. "You know, this is a hell of a job. I can't even tell you to be grateful tomorrow's Friday. And somehow, TGI Sunday just does not have the same ring, you know?"

Aidan felt the other immortal's presence wash over her again as she moved into the kitchen, and smiled to herself. He thought she was tired. Now that she wasn't worried about Joe, this might yet be fun.

* * * *

_So, she still returns here. It can't be a major source of income, she seems to work two hours or so a day. Always in the late morning, before the bar opens for lunch. If it isn't income, then she's not a craven returning to meet her bills, but a woman strong enough to meet her obligations... or fool enough not to know what I'm doing. No, Elektra knows what I'm doing, she tried to call the challenge on her own terms yesterday. So, she has some strength to her, despite hiding with her friends last night. Or perhaps that is where she's been staying?_

No, she took bags with her. Not even proper suitcases. No sense of propriety or fitness. Hiding indeed. There's no pattern to her reactions; is she already panicking? Perhaps. That will make this even more entertaining. So, yes, this may be the start of the pattern. Appropriate that her water trail should lead to a tavern. Another day or so to follow her, to make sure of her habits. She doesn't seem to work here on Sunday or Monday, so I'll take that much more time to make her uneasy and shatter her nerve. Next Tuesday or Wednesday will do well enough to take her. It's been ages since I had the pleasure of drawing out a hunt so.

The blond hunter smiled as he watched Joe's bar through binoculars from the top of a nearby building. Very nice, both the doors could both be seen from one vantage. And while there was a delivery entrance in the back, she always parked out front. Now, if she kept taking the same route from her place to this bar, and continued to travel alone....

Mortals weren't part of the Game. They never had been. But her lanky friend was always in the truck with her in the evenings. So morning it would have to be, either on the way from the gym, although they did seem to be taking both cars at once, or more likely, late morning when she left them at her new property to work while she went to the tavern.

_Ah, that's a thought. Time to unsettle her a bit more. Where's a florist?_

* * * *

Aidan glanced at the sky, estimated the time at six or so and looked around. The wiring was finished for all the outlets; some of the ceiling fans were already in and turning, thank the Lady. She walked down to the first floor where the two men were working on shelves. "How does dinner sound, you two?"

Duncan turned off the saw and waited until the whine of the blade stopped before asking, "What did you say, Aidan?"

She grinned at him. "I was given to understand that Lincoln freed the slaves over here in 1860-something. How do you two feel about knocking off early and getting dinner, maybe going dancing or catching Joe's early set?" With a rueful shrug she admitted, "Sorry, I think I'm getting a touch of cabin fever, but I don't really think a long walk is a bright idea under the circumstances."

"No, I don't think so, either. Shall we go spend the evening at the bar? I think Joe wanted to do another set with you if you were willing. Does he know you can play harp?" Methos checked off the board lengths completed and started stacking up the wood for the next day's work.

"No, but then my harp is in.... Oh, may the Lady bless, it's Thursday. Time to call Connor. Half a second." She dug around for her phone, looking abstracted as she mentally rehearsed her greeting. Finally, she dialed and deliberately pitched her voice to sound cheerful and casual.

"Hello, Connor. ... What do you mean, what's wrong? ... I do not. No, I won't. ... Oh, shit."

Both Duncan and Methos blinked. The younger immortal had never heard her use that particular piece of profanity. Threats, certainly, or elaborate, verbose complaints but not that.

Aidan handed the phone to Duncan. "Connor wants to talk to you." She turned blindly away and sat down on a pile of bricks.

Duncan put the phone to his ear. "How did you get her to say that?"

His cousin's familiar voice said, "What's going on, Duncan?"

"Try to give me something to work on, would you, Connor? She said she was going to call you Thursday; it's Thursday. We were just shutting down for the night over here at her new place."

Exasperated, Connor said, "Dhonnchaidh, she never starts our conversations with 'Hello, Connor'. You and I don't say goodbye; she doesn't use hello. Claims there are better ways to strike up a discussion with a good-looking man." Connor chuckled softly. "So, if she said hello, something is wrong and what is it? Trouble with lifelines?"

Duncan blinked, then thought about that fairly seriously. "Hold on a second, Connor." He put his hand over the receiver and looked at Methos. "Do you know Connor?"

Methos looked amused at the question. "Oh, yes. He was even using that name at the time. Let's see, I was using the name... Robert Morgan, I was running a tavern in Boston and investing in trading ships."

"Good. Saves problems." Before Methos could ask what was up, Duncan went back to talking with his clansman. "That would describe it, cousin. Some damn fool is giving her trouble; won't come out to challenge, but won't leave her alone either. However, I'm keeping an eye on it and so is another old friend of hers. Would you remember a Robert Morgan, from Boston?"

"Heh-heh. I remember. He's the one who got me hooked on Sam Adams' ale. Still in the Game, is he? Tell him I'm not paying interest on that ten pounds he loaned me; he's the one who vanished before I could pay it back."

Duncan raised his eyebrows, grinning at that comment. "I'll tell him for you. No, this challenger's just giving her cabin fever, kinsman, nothing more serious than that. We'll keep an eye on her for you."

"Tell her anything you get to see, I get to see, hmm? I mean, clansmen should share everything." Connor chuckled again. "I'll see to it that her belongings get shipped out, not to worry. Damn Spanish peacock is still getting me into trouble. Watch your head, Dhonnchaidh."

"Connor." Duncan stood there listening to the dial tone, then hit the off switch on the phone. With Connor, the important part of the conversation was always what he didn't say. What had been left out of this? Hell, what hadn't? He handed Methos the phone absently, still turning that conversation over in his mind.

Aidan came over and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on one cheek. "Sorry about that. I don't know how he does it."

Duncan replied, "Oh, I do. He just pulls it out of the air. Irritating thing he claims Ramirez taught him. Oh, and Methos? He said to tell you he's not paying you interest on that ten pounds that he owes you."

Methos looked intrigued. "He owes me money? Wonderful. I'll get the interest somehow, or I'll just tell you two about the duel on Boston Commons back in... 1783? That sounds right."

Aidan took her cell phone back and replaced it in its case. "Duncan, remind me to call the phone company tomorrow and get the lines hooked up out here. I need to go ahead and get phones in here, so that you two aren't completely cut off from the outside world while I'm at work."

Duncan nodded. "My intern would appreciate that, I'm sure. I gave her your cell phone number, but she didn't expect quite this much autonomy this summer. On that subject, Methos, who's running the bookstore while you're over here?"

"Oh, a young man by the name of Richard Redstone agreed to take over for a month or so if I let him use my apartment. Since he's appallingly unlearned in languages, I didn't worry about him reading my journals."

Duncan spent the next several minutes explaining to Aidan why he was laughing so hard, and why Methos looked so smug. The three of them shut down the house while discussing the likelihood that Duncan's latest student had eaten Methos out of house and home while making incredible deals in the bookstore. Aidan turned around from locking the door and realized that Duncan and Methos were still standing in front of her. She pushed against their backs and moved between them to see what the problem was.

She raised one eyebrow looking at the scene, then started chuckling softly. "Well, well, well. Interesting sense of humor on this one. Help me look for a note. No, on second thought, don't. He may have poisoned the thorns. He doesn't know you two are immortal, and I don't want him to find out."

Duncan looked at the blanket of white roses on the truck's hood and shook his head. "White roses are for purity. What's the point?"

Aidan was running her hands quickly and carefully through the roses. "Yes, white roses are for purity or loyalty but in this country, white flowers are for the dead. Look around some time on Mother's Day. This is a funereal blanket. No, no note. Pity." She looked over the roses again, interested in her opponent's mind now. "Hmm, I don't think I quite trust him not to have put bugs in it, or something equally interesting. So...."

She shrugged, looking thoughtful. "Time to send him a message of my own with it." She draped the roses over her shoulder, ignoring the thorns, and walked to the far end of the parking area where she arranged them to lie over the fence. "Maybe he'll take the hint and get off the fence himself. Shall we go fix dinner, gentlemen?"

* * * *

_Very interesting reaction. Why over the fence? And the two men must know something is going on but what has she told them? They're very protective of her, but she isn't allowing them to guard her. As if mortals would stop one of our kind._

I think I'll drive her toward the river. A last kindness to one who travels to water and a way to ensure she goes where I want. The look on her face as I remove her ability to run should be exquisite. Such an expressive face my Elektra has and such unpredictable reactions. She's not a pacifist, but she hasn't made another attempt to bring the challenge to me. What is she doing? What does she think she's doing, rather. I don't know when I've enjoyed a hunt more.

Time for a good meal and some sleep, perhaps a swim. Three in the morning should be about right to jar her awake and keep her awake for the rest of the night. Anyone who comes to work on a house by seven is definitely more fond of sunlight than moon. That should interfere with her day very nicely.

* * * *

Joe listened to the story with great interest. "A blanket of white roses? Hell of a warning."

Aidan shrugged, unimpressed. "No, Joe, the time Owain Rhys-Tewdor left me the horse skull with the red ribbons -- that was a warning. This was interesting, mind, and it tells me quite a lot. But I've seen better. Blessed Mother, I've left better when I've been minded to arrogance."

She tapped her mug, silently asking for a refill. Joe raised an eyebrow in question but he refilled it with hard cider anyway. She didn't seem to be even mildly tipsy.

"Oh, it's Adam's turn to be sober and responsible, not mine. What bothers me the most isn't the challenge. Now that I'm out of your house, I'm not worried about that. Either I'm better than he is or not. In all likelihood I'm better, and I'm not careless even with infants. I do want to see another millennia or two. What worries me is the question: how did he find me? He's looking for me \-- not Mac, nor anyone else."

Warm arms slipped around her from behind. She leaned back against Methos, knowing who it was even before he asked, "Sober enough to dance?"

"Certainly, what do you take me for?"

"A woman brave enough to jitterbug with MacLeod. He's already putting the music in the jukebox, have a good time." Methos neatly plucked her off the stool and swatted her to send her on her way to Duncan. She gave him an indignant look.

"If you wanted me to go away so you could talk to Joe, why didn't you just say so?"

"Go away so I can talk to Joe." He smiled at her.

She sighed, the back of her hand against her forehead in mock despair, but she was chuckling as she went to dance. Methos watched her leave, then looked at Joe.

"She told you?"

"Yeah, she told me. Who was Owain Rhys-Tewdor?"

Methos raised an eyebrow at the non-sequitor. "Is, Joe, he's still in the Game as of a year or so ago when I last checked. And he's an old enemy of Aidan's; they've loathed each other for centuries, but he's never pushed quite hard enough to goad her into challenging. The Watcher records list him as John FitzAlan."

"Which name's right? Never mind. She holding up all right?"

"She'll be fine. She doesn't know you Watch; would it be easier if she didn't tell you anything?"

Joe gave Methos a sardonic look, then passed him a beer. "How 'bout I answer your real question? I'm not Watching her, Adam, and I'm trying my damnedest to keep her out of the reports.

"No, I haven't told her about us yet. Time's coming, though, old friend, when I'm going to want to have an immortal that the Watchers don't know about who does know about the Watchers. I want someone with enough love of history to let the Watchers live and ruthless enough to pare them down or wipe them out completely if we ever have a problem like Horton or Shapiro again. And someone discriminating enough to make the call."

Joe glared at him. "How do you feel about being named executor of my estate, to make sure my private journals stay in the right hands?"

Adam smiled slowly, then inclined his head with a malicious gleam in his eye. "My compliments, Joe, that's gloriously devious. And you're right, she's perfect. She told me a few nights ago that she spent six years hunting Nazi war criminals."

"She what? Good God, Adam, how? Why?"

He shrugged. "Like many of us, Aidan had friends among the gypsies. The death camps reduced them from 700,000 in the late '30s to 200,000 at the end of the war. And she's deadly when she's on a hunt. She applies the same philosophy she uses in her studies. Go back to the source, eliminate that, then follow all the channels down. So far as I know, she's only done it twice: the Nazis and most of one chain of immortal teachers and students."

"Which one? Nevermind, later. My God, how has she evaded our records?" Joe shook his head in disbelief, then muttered, "Well, that might explain a couple deaths we could never figure out. Pity I can't tell anyone."

Methos watched him intently. "Joe, Aidan's most useful skill is looking perfectly ordinary when she wants to. When she reins in her personality, she is not particularly noticeable. Neither incredibly striking, nor incredibly ugly. Mid-range of height these days, although that was more troublesome years ago. It's the force of character everyone notices, much the way it is with you, although these last few centuries her carriage and grace make her more noticeable than she used to be.

"And she never gives her targets advance warning. The challenge letter specifies a time not more than six hours distant and if they don't show, she hunts them again a year or so later. Of all the students I've trained, Edana learned survival the best."

Joe couldn't resist the dig. "Yeah, and she has the most fun, too." After a moment's pause he shifted to a much more serious topic. "Adam? Ask her about Cassandra. You need to know."

The immortal looked up and away for a moment. "So. They finally met. It had to happen eventually. It can't have been that grisly, Edana is still talking to me." He drew a deep breath. "I'll ask, Joe. Thanks."

* * * *

Aidan lay there and listened to Duncan's slow, even breathing and to the whistle of wind against the windowpanes. Lightning flared across the windows with the distant sound of thunder rolling high above and away. At last she turned over, squirming under Methos' arm so that she faced him rather than being spooned against him. She tucked her head under his chin, bottom arm folded against his chest, the other resting against the side of his ribs.

In an almost unvoiced whisper, she murmured, "I know you're not asleep. What is it?"

"Did anyone ever try to burn you for a witch, dearest?" Methos kept his voice equally low, not wanting to wake Duncan. Heaven and Hell both this was, curled between his nearest and dearest with neither one his lover, both his loved. After all these years, though, he had learned to enjoy what he could and let the rest wait.

"No, but I left in a hurry more than once. What's bothering you, Methos?" She kept her voice quiet, as much felt as heard, but Aidan refused to be distracted from the subject.

He sighed, not wanting to discuss this and not wanting to leave it too long either. Characteristically, Methos broached the subject obliquely. "I understand you ran into an old acquaintance of mine, from before I found you?"

Aidan riposted to the core of the matter. "Cassandra, you mean. Yes, we met. I meant to tell you, but... Duncan's fond of her, as much as he can be, though that's less than it was."

He digested that in silence, stroking his hand down her back again and again as he thought.

Duncan woke to the sound of quiet voices, knowing that wasn't what had awakened him. The tension in Methos' body against his chest and legs had pulled him out of sleep. Odd how comfortable it felt to have these two in his bed, to wake curled up against another male body. In the clan, that had been normal. He'd been the chieftain's son, but he hadn't rated a bed to himself until he'd been a proven warrior. In the winter, you were grateful to have someone else to curl against under the covers, away from the drafts that the fire never entirely chased away. Besides, there was always too much to do just keeping shelter and food available for all. There wasn't time for luxuries like a bed for each individual, much less building enough room for them.

He heard Methos ask, "What happened?" Duncan could tell they were trying not to wake him, and without thinking about it he controlled his breathing, keeping it deep and regular as though he were asleep still. The three of them didn't have quite enough privacy right now; pretending not to hear was the best he could do at the moment.

Aidan sighed softly against Methos, then wrapped her arm up over his ribs. Her hand lay on Duncan's side where he was tucked against Methos. "I had to come over here to meet Duncan. He had agreed to come with me to look over the house. I fully intended to buy it that afternoon if I liked the interior. When I got here, another immortal was here, a woman with magic of her own. I could taste it. She smelt sharp, like fresh-cut grass, with a bite and aftertaste in the mouth."

She felt his laughter against her body, although he made no sound. "She'd hate being compared to a lawn, you realize."

Aidan shrugged, then murmured, "Well, I'll tell you, she doesn't taste nearly as good as summer grass. No, she was arguing with Duncan, wanting someone dead. He hadn't completed a task to her liking apparently. She was ranting that the Horsemen could be reborn since the head wasn't dead yet. Then she decided to lace her arguments with bardic voice. She wanted you dead, Methos, and she was trying to make him do it."

Feeling the sudden coiling of muscles, hearing the aching intake of breath, Aidan immediately reached up and touched his mouth with one finger. "Hush, mo cridhe, hush, you'll wake Duncan. She wasn't getting anywhere; he's as stubborn a Scot as was ever born. He loves you dearly, you know. I knew it watching her enchantment coil looking for a spot to strike and having trouble finding one.

"In any case, I stuck my nose into the matter, although mine isn't near so large as yours." She felt laughter hiss from between his lips, although he was still more tense than she liked. "My interruption broke her spell and we... discussed things. I had to pull my blade, both to compel answers from her and to make it close enough to challenge to keep Duncan out of it. I was afraid he would feel obligated to protect her else, and she was tearing him apart already."

In a controlled voice that hurt both Aidan and Duncan to hear Methos asked, "Did she tell you what I did?"

"About the Horsemen? Her version, yes." Aidan pressed the finger against his lips. "Hush. Did you truly think she could turn me against you? That she could tell me things about you I didn't already know and accept? Cassandra told me a great deal, but not what she thought. She fell in love with you, didn't she? She doesn't hate you for being one of the Horsemen, she hates herself for loving one of the Horsemen."

Methos drew a shaky breath, then replied softly, "Yes, among other things. I can't blame her for hating me. I did rape her; I did break her. And I let Kronos take her. I have never been strong enough to beat him. Not by myself. I couldn't stop him, but I didn't even try."

"Methos. You're saying you were as much a slave as she. From what little I know of Koren, I believe it. You can't blame yourself for doing what you had to."

"Flame, I enjoyed it, do you understand? At the time, I took pleasure in the killing, in the control, in the power over their lives and deaths. I liked it, liked planning and maneuvering other people. I even manipulated the other Horsemen. Even Kronos. I couldn't get away from him, I couldn't always hold his will, but I managed more often than not to make him dance to my tune." His arms had tightened painfully around her, but Methos' voice hurt her worse, the self-loathing in it lashing both of them.

"Yes, I do understand. It's what I feel every time some young idiot shatters the rules and I can fight them, kill them, without debating whether I should leave them alive, that they might be worth saving for the Gathering.

"Methos, I know what you were before the Horsemen found you." Duncan felt the other man flinch at that statement and marked it away in his mind to ask Aidan about that, someday, somehow. She kept talking as he made his mental notes.

"I can't blame you for wanting power over others. I can't even blame you for taking what pleasure you could. I remember what I was like when you bought me back out of that brothel. I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't been there. You made me control you, didn't you? So that I'd get it out of my system.

"And I remember what you were like when you trained me. You never hurt me more than you had to." She pressed more firmly on his mouth. "Hush. You didn't. Better that you kill me when I left myself open. At least you left my head on my shoulders when I was dead. And we both know I never made the same mistake twice when you taught me that way."

Methos tucked his face against her hair, shaking between the two of them. "Gods, I never thought either of you would forgive me. I couldn't tell you, either of you. I'm sorry, Edana."

Aidan held him tightly, fingers kneading tension from him. "It's all right, Methos. It is. Do you truly think I've told you everything I've done in my life? Even Duncan has his secrets, and he's far and away the youngest of us. Shh, it's all right. You're not a monster, no matter what you fear of yourself. My word on it, Magister, you aren't."

Duncan held still, knowing that he had dealt his own hand in this game. It was too late to 'wake up' and comfort Methos. It might even hurt the other man more to know the Scot had heard it all.

Out of a quiet pause Methos laughed softly, a pained sound. "What haven't you told me?"

"Oh, no, another night. Tonight I tell you about Cassandra. She tried to use her voice on me."

This laughter was still soft, but more genuine. "Oh, lovely. As if bardic Voice would affect a trained druid. She didn't have a clue who or what you were, did she?"

"No, she didn't. I slammed her across the room with wind to make my point and shut her up."

"Damn, and I missed it?" His tone was still more half-hearted than Aidan liked to hear.

"Hush. She managed to irritate me enough that I challenged her. How has she survived three millennia, old friend? She's arrogant, and not very good with that sword."

"You challenged her? You haven't done that in seven hundred years, I didn't think. What happened?" Methos slowly began to relax as Aidan goaded him back into his usual sarcastic responses.

"Well, I've issued one or two. She maligned Ramirez, insulted my taste in lovers, and made condescending remarks about Darius. I lost my temper and challenged her. We fought..." Aidan paused, thinking, "... the same morning Joe sent you the fax. She's truly incompetent with a blade, at least for one of us. Who trained her?"

Methos did chuckle softly. "I have no idea. Why, going to read him the riot act for doing such a poor job of it?" More slowly, he continued, "Did you kill her?"

"No, I didn't. Duncan told me after I challenged her that she had given you your head. He didn't quite ask me to let her live; you know how he can be. So I decided to put the fear of the Goddess in her. You remember the duelists in Italy, the ones who threatened to give each other haircuts?"

"Yes, what about them?"

Aidan shrugged. "Well, I have a lock of her hair painted with blood from her throat. To be honest, I think I terrified her. I put both blades on her throat and made her ask what I wanted.

"Methos, listen to me. You don't owe her your head. She revoked the debt in exchange for her life. Revoked both your debt and Duncan's for asking it of her. Do you hear me?"

He exhaled until Aidan wondered if he was going to breathe again, then slowly he pulled in fresh air. "I hear. Thank you. I was terrified of when she might call it in, and for what."

She could feel his hand trembling slightly against her back with the release of tension, but made no mention of it. "She's promised not to attack me, not to send headhunters after you, and not to misuse her magic. If she does any of those things, by the spirit of the oath, not the letter, I will kill her and she knows it."

In a quieter voice, Aidan said, "I didn't make her promise not to attack you. You raped her, by her admission and yours. If she wants to come after you for that, I won't stop her, but I don't think she will. For one thing, I don't think she's realized I left her that option. For the other, she doesn't want to fight you herself, she just wants you dead."

In a controlled, calm voice, Methos agreed, "That's fair."

"Don't you dare give her your head if she comes after you! Not for that. Do you hear me? She's been raping souls, and it's near impossible to heal that."

Methos immediately murmured, "Shush. I have no idea how we haven't woken Duncan, let's not blow it now."

At the same time, Duncan stretched against Methos and 'woke up', making appropriately sleepy noises. "Hmm? You two awake? Everything all right?" Deliberately, he moved closer to Methos, wanting to give his friend what support he could without revealing he'd heard anything. Feeling cords and knots under his fingers, Duncan began rubbing out Methos' back.

"We're fine, Highlander. Gods, that feels good," Methos groaned.

Aidan reached out, felt what Duncan was doing and began to match it from the front. "Sorry to wake you, I was trying to get him to go to sleep. This may work very nicely." She tilted her head, kissed Methos lightly on the throat and whispered in Greek, "Yes, I still love you, Methos. Don't you dare give up over that incompetent witch or I'll petition the Goddess to send you back as my next student. I'd do it, too."

Caught between the two of them, Methos shuddered and let their hands relax him. In English he replied, "I believe you. Thank you both."

Aidan sang quietly to them, lacing her voice with some of the cadences of sleep and peace. Out of practice though she was, it still worked. All three of them fell soundly asleep as the rain began.

* * * *

The hunter stalked his prey across the city, deliberately letting her see his car as he followed her to Joe's Bar. More than once she tried to lose him, only to be picked up again a few minutes later. Soft, cruel laughter spilled through his car after he finally let her escape. Better that she not figure out he had a tracer on her truck. He had not spent a week on this chase to see her escape.

He drove at a more leisurely pace to the hardware store where he had first confirmed his prey, enjoying the irony of buying some of the tools of her death here. Gravel, spray paint, and motor oil -- such plebeian items to kill one of their own kind, but they had their uses.

Gustav spent the afternoon swimming, working out with his sword, and visiting one of the museums in the town. The exhibit of worked gold and silver actually met with his approval. After a short nap, the sun finally down, he went to set up his killing zone.

He looked around again, pleased with his site. A grassy slope with a few sparse, young trees and bushes ran down ten or twelve feet at a 45 degree angle -- steep enough she wouldn't be inclined to try to run back up it after he chased her over the edge. From there, the Corps of Engineers had put in a four foot retaining wall and then an eight foot wide concrete walkway. Below the walkway, land lined with irregularly sized white rocks sloped a short distance to the river. So, she wouldn't go up or down. Now to make this even worse.

The blond hunter aligned the most important part of his trap first. Looking around for the best location, he braced the crossbow where it would almost certainly go unnoticed under one of the bushes. He sighted along it to aim where it would best strike precisely the height he wanted. Gustav built up a pile of driftwood, cocked and loaded the crossbow, then triggered it. The quarrel slammed into the target a bit higher than he had hoped and he spent a few minutes resetting the crossbow. The second time, the quarrel sliced into the deadwood exactly 40" off the ground -- precisely where he wanted it.

From the site of the impaled target, he gauged in his mind where his markers should be on the retaining wall. Once he knew precisely where they would go, the immortal pulled out the spray paint and set a red skull and crossbones on either side of his target point, and then a third directly on it. All he had to do was bracket her and trigger the crossbow when she eclipsed the center skull.

Using the other two cans, he set some more graffiti, black and green this time, to conceal from his prey which marks were important. Although he saw some gang graffiti already there, he dismissed that as unimportant. No mortal could seriously threaten him.

Now he placed the gravel and oil in a random appearing pattern to hold his prey near the kill zone. Using leather gloves, he collected some broken glass where the bridge passed over the river nearby and worked that into the pattern. He stepped back and studied the whole, then scattered gravel in a couple places. Looking again, he made a few more finicky adjustments then stepped back and nodded this time. One last time he deliberated, setting in his mind the precise details of the site and where not to stand. An error would be fatal; he refused to lose his head to a mere fledgling of two centuries.

Satisfied at last, he set the trap. He reloaded the crossbow for the last time, working carefully. The broadhead quarrel was more than sharp enough for what he wanted; the radio trigger had fresh batteries bought this morning. It was a good night's work, now to get some sleep before he trailed her for the last time in the morning.

* * * *

Duncan caught Aidan around the waist as she headed for the door. "You are going to eat some breakfast, right?"

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Are you sure you're not Italian?" An extravagant arm motion took in the entire room. "Connor started my belongings on their way today, I have three ceiling fans to install, more locks to change out than I care to think about, and you want me to worry about food?"

"Yes. Next question?" He raised an eyebrow at her, daring her to argue with him. "A lot of good you'll do if you pass out from low blood sugar. Even we can be driven to it. Behave, or I'll sic Methos on you."

An amused voice spoke up from across the room. "I distinctly heard my name taken in vain. What now?" He glanced up from the wood he was staining. Boards were carefully slanted against the wall on either side of him to dry.

"Just convincing Aidan that eating would be good for her."

Methos bent his head back over his work. "If she wants to be challenged and lose her head from hunger and faintness, I'll deny I ever trained her."

Aidan laughed abruptly. "All right, I concede. You're both right, I'm wrong. I promise, I'll get food at Joe's, but I'm going to be late."

"Good. If you're off schedule, maybe he won't trail you today." Methos continued to work, but he watched her from under his eyelashes to see how well that shot struck.

"How did you.... Damn. You always get me with that. Yes, he followed me yesterday, but I lost him eventually. Actually, I'll be more worried when he stops. That'll tell me he's getting ready to strike. Do you suppose he gets off on stalking me?"

That thought stopped Methos' hands in mid-motion and his head tilted as he began to consider the question. Alarmed, Aidan fell still in Duncan's arm as she threw her own mind to what had been only an idle suggestion. Duncan watched the thoughts and emotions play over them, reading Aidan's face, seeing Methos' eyes narrow. The older immortals looked grimly at each other.

"We've misread this, haven't we." Her voice did not make it a question.

"Possibly. It could go either way. But let's start working as if he's not challenging you, but hunting you." Methos set the board aside and stood up. "You have your phone?"

She nodded, running possibilities through her mind. Duncan looked back and forth. Finally he said, "Translate this for me. What's the difference, so I'll be sure we're all thinking the same thing?"

Aidan replied absently, "I'm now assuming he doesn't plan to fight me, but to kill me without issuing challenge or any other formalities -- like fair play. Let's see, he seems disinclined to let mortals in on this, or he'd have struck at Joe's. You two are always here with me, or I'm at Duncan's with you, and as of yet he shouldn't know you're immortal.

"So. He'll have to try and take me at the hardware or grocery stores when I'm alone, moving from the door to the car here, or from the car to Joe's in the mornings. My bet is on the latter. Best killing zones. Also the civilians at the stores are too unpredictable, which lets out the gas station."

Methos nodded, still thinking furiously. "Yes, but don't assume that's it, either. We have one other problem. If this is a hunt, eventually he'll lose patience. At that point, he'll either leave, which I doubt, or go for a hostage. Now, luck would be that he tried for me or Duncan, but no assumptions. He's put at least a week into this, Edana. I don't think he's going to leave."

Aidan nodded quietly. "All I have to do is hold him 'til my gear arrives. If I have to, I'll set myself out as a stalking horse then. Welded titanium-steel chainmail will stop enough for me to kill him if he won't challenge." She noticed the expression on Duncan's face and hugged him tightly.

"Dhonnchaidh, it will be all right. I've played this game before, more times than you truly want to know. If I have to stake myself out it will be near water, where I can go for a swim if there's need. I'm not going to get myself killed now. Don't worry so. He could simply be playing mindgames before challenging me; we're only moving to a worst case scenario."

Methos walked over and wrapped his arms around both of them. "You'll be late. Let's not break your patterns until we're ready to rattle him." He caught her eyes and continued, "Get some food as soon as you get in the bar, all right? You need to stay in good condition until this is over."

He thought for a moment then interrupted Aidan as she started to speak. "Which route will you be taking today, just in case?"

Aidan nodded, very serious. "I'll take one of my usual routes, so that I don't surprise him just yet. But I'll watch for 'presents' in the road, too."

Duncan hugged both of them. "Be careful, Aidan."

She chuckled softly. "Don't worry, I won't make you explain anything to Connor. This is the last day this week that I go in to the bar, and the phone company said the lines would be turned on by Monday. I'll get a phone in here by then."

Aidan kissed Duncan lightly on the cheek, then Methos. "See you all in a few hours."

* * * *

_Last time, my prey. This is the last time I let you run in this truck. Three more days, then I run you on foot and that will be a joy. You're moving more slowly this morning, I wonder why? Can it be you're not sleeping well? I do hope so. What's the saying? 'Professionals are predictable, but there are a lot of amateurs in the world'? It's so much more fun when the prey is unpredictable. What's a hunt without risk?_

The look on your face as you try to evade my sword should be truly memorable. You have such an expressive face, and the young always fear pain and death. Shall I let you revive before I take your head? The crossbow will almost certainly kill you. You simply don't have the mass to absorb that kind of blow and live. If you had more muscle on your frame, you might, but you're female, and weak. A pity to kill you, but I never take students, no matter how brave. Why should I? In the end, there will be only one.

Are you wondering why I kept going when you turned into the parking lot? Ponder as you like, Elektra. Now I throw your balance off in the other direction, by leaving you alone for the rest of the day. Time to make the bomb for your car. I wonder if you'll scream when the quarrel hits, when you realize you've lost the Game?

Another present this afternoon, I think. Something appropriate for a special occasion....

* * * *

Interrupting the discussion on what to cook for dinner, Aidan looked at the cars and commented, resignedly, "Well, either he can't figure out which one I drive, or this one's for you, Duncan."

Methos glanced at the black gift bag on the hood of the T-bird and mockingly said, "Even made it color-coordinated. 'For the young gentlemen,' so I guess that's us." Methos opened the card. "How nice, it's a letter of sympathy. Bad scansion in the poetry, mind."

He handed the card over to Duncan and began ransacking the bag. "Hmm, good whiskey, at least. Here, Aidan, check out the bottle. Now, what's this? A CD? Handel's Requiem Mass. Going to be a dull wake."

"Did he sign the card, Duncan?" Aidan never looked up from where she was inspecting the seals on the alcohol to see if there had been tampering.

" 'With my deepest sympathies on your loss.' " Duncan handed it to her, trying to match their nonchalance. He'd had immortals stalk him before challenging, but he was starting to agree with Aidan. Whoever this was had no intention of fighting her, just slaughtering her.

Methos kept digging in the bag. "Ah, two black armbands, wrapped around shot glasses. For the whiskey one supposes. An advertisement from Verdant Hills Funeral Homes, how kind. A fruit basket, not even with anything exotic: apples, pears, bananas. Lovely. Last, and least, a twelve-hour black candle.

"Boring chap. Couldn't we have something a bit more modern for the wake? I'm terribly fond of 'Dead Man's Party.' Maybe Led Zeppelin's 'In My Time of Dying.' 'The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald' would at least give the right feel to it."

Aidan finally reached over and thumped him sharply on the arm. "Enough. Let's go cook. Come on, you two, I've had enough of his bad attempts to frighten me. Not a creative bone in his body, which may be worth thinking on." She threw all of it back into the bag and handed it to Duncan. "Here, you keep it. Not my brand of whiskey."

She turned to unlock her truck and stopped, staring. Duncan reached out and took the keys from her, pressing her back with one arm. When he opened the door, the light reflected off the white note and bright steel. "Believes in overkill, doesn't he?" Duncan remarked, trying to casual.

Aidan only remarked, "So long as he's the one to lose his head, not me."

Methos came over to look while Duncan lifted out the top item, a black-bordered card which only said, 'Soon.' Under it, a broken longsword had been tied into a cross with a dark brown braid. Duncan carefully moved the bundle onto the hood of the truck.

Aidan removed the braid. "Cheap wig. But a good match for color."

Methos reached for the note, examining it for any details. Duncan studied the sword, and Aidan leaned in from the side to see. After he fit the sword pieces back together, Duncan pointed to the etching on the blade. "Your name, Aidan."

She gave him an oddly intent look. "Turn it over, Duncan. I need to see what's on the other side."

Methos glanced at the blade, then gave it a second, longer look. "That looks like the one you used in the first millennium, but you never tolerated that much ornamentation on a hilt in your life."

Meanwhile Aidan was studying the other side. "It does, doesn't it? Interesting indeed."

"What does it say? It's Greek, isn't it?" Duncan looked at the sword more closely, noting the quality of steel in the blade, the intricate crosspiece. "I saw this blade in one of the replica swords catalogs a while back. It didn't have the engraving, though. This must have cost a hundred dollars, call it another sixty or so for the items on my car; the man doesn't go for cheap warnings."

"It says Elektra Mycenas. Yes, it's Greek. Interesting. I haven't used that name or identity in over a century... however, the bank account I accessed a few weeks ago was originally set up by 'Elektra Mycenas.' I have some idea how he found me now. Good, one less puzzle in this." She neatly bundled up the sword pieces and wrapped the braid around them, then placed them in the back of the truck.

"Passable metal, I'll reforge them one day. For now, shall we go? There are interesting implications to this, if I can just decipher them." She handed Methos the car keys. "Do you mind driving? I need to think."

"Certainly. Hmm, maybe we should put together a CD for wakes? What should be on the playlist?" Methos smiled to himself as the color started to come back up in her face. The argument over 'Dannyboy' was flying fast and furious by the time they closed the truck doors and went to Duncan's to make dinner.

* * * *

Gustav studied the gymnasium carefully. Even at six in the morning, there was a possibility one of her lovers would come out, or worse yet she would. Completely under her truck as he planned to be, he would be hideously vulnerable to them. To his advantage, though, only she would feel his presence and come looking.

No one was stirring; there was no sign of motion through any of the third floor windows. Good, Elektra should be moving more and more slowly these days; otherwise, he'd have to come back tomorrow and do this in the dark at four or five in the morning. _Worrying yourself to sleep, then sleeping badly and long? Oh, I do hope so. Why spend all this energy for nothing?_ Frowning, he noticed a young man walking slowly along, lost in thought. Although he fumed at what it did to his timetable, the hunter waited until the street was completely clear.

He eased himself from shadow to shadow, then moved quickly across the open area to her truck. Swiftly, Gustav squirmed partly under her truck and set the small bomb inside her wheel-well where the shaped charge would blow out her front axle. If it went off on the passenger side she should be able to get out the driver side and run, which would give him a beautiful shot as she came around the truck. He checked the connections one last time and wriggled back out. Glancing around to ensure he was unobserved, he headed back to his car.

On a Sunday she should be working at the house all day. For him, this would be a good day to sleep, enjoy a good meal, see what concerts or recitals were scheduled. Let her wonder what he was doing, and worry.

* * * *

Methos roused first and sat up in the bed. His movement woke the other two and all of them felt an immortal entirely too near. Aidan rolled out of the bed, grabbing her saber as she went, and came up moving toward the door with her sword en garde. Duncan slid off the other side and stalked toward the elevator, katana in both hands. Once they were out of the way Methos melted into the shadows, longsword out and hidden by one leg.

Aidan set one shoulder against the door to provide the least profile possible and looked through the peephole. Moonlight silvered her skin, glinted off her sword, necklace, and waist chain, as she dropped out of guard position and unlocked the door. Both men pivoted as they heard the lock turn and the door open. In a perfectly clear, calm voice, she commented, "It's called a telephone. You pick it up, punch numbers, and if you're feeling particularly modern speak into one end of it -- hopefully the right one. Or did you mistake it for a haggis again and put it in the refrigerator?"

Connor MacLeod grinned at her from the hallway, suitcase behind him, katana in hand. "What kept you? Or did I interrupt something? And I never put the phone in the refrigerator." His gaze traveled from the top of head to her feet and back again, slowing several times along the way. "Nice look. Skin and jewelry suits you."

"Nice. Nice? I see." Aidan's eyes narrowed, then she smiled at him, a sultry look that made Connor think the temperature had just risen a good ten degrees. Setting her sword to one side, Aidan began to stretch and twist through a series of poses and partial turns, smoothly enough it was almost a dance and slowly enough that all three men had plenty of time to see everything. By the time she finished, Duncan was flushed, Connor (who'd been closest and had the best view) was sweating, and Methos was grinning at her temper and the reactions of the other two men.

Walking out of the shadows, the oldest immortal put his sword back by the bed and brought Aidan the top of Duncan's pajamas. "No wonder I had to pay so much to buy out your contract that time." He handed her the black silk, still smiling.

Aidan held the shirt down by one leg, still watching Connor. "Did you look your fill, Connor?"

"Yes." His voice was hoarse.

"Good. Now that you're awake, make some coffee while I get dressed." Methos smiled to hear the edge in her voice.

"You never do wake up well from naps, do you? Pull the shirt on, Aidan, you got his attention."

Connor watched, surprised and admiring, as she stalked to the dresser to pull out some shorts. "She never did that in New York." With an abrupt shake of his head, he looked at his clansman, noting the silk pajama bottoms that matched Aidan's top. "Duncan."

Duncan grinned and hugged him. "Connor. She's right, what are you doing here?"

Connor raised his eyebrows. "Headhunting, what else?"

Without turning around, Aidan replied, "Connor, he's mine. Behave or I'll hunt your other head. With my sword."

Connor opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it and stopped. His clansman held up both hands, palms out, and backed up a few paces. Realizing he would get no support from the other two men, Connor changed tactics. "So where is the coffee, Duncan?"

A few minutes later all four of them were seated around Duncan's table, drinking coffee and waking back up. Aidan finally sighed and tilted her head back, eyes closed and hands wrapped around the hot mug. "All right, Connor. It's two in the morning, and we've all been a little stressed lately. What's going on?"

"Your opponent annoyed me. I came to get in line."

She opened her eyes again, interested despite herself. "Oh, really? What did he do to you? I thought he was out here driving me crazy."

"He's doing a good job of it. You've lost at least five pounds since Boston. I tell you my side, then you tell me yours, yes?" That husky, oddly accented voice sounded harsher than usual.

Aidan opened her eyes and looked at him, grey eyes meeting hazel. "It's a deal, but I still get first shot at him."

"How do you figure?" Connor leaned forward, running one hand through short, sandy hair. As usual he wore jeans, a casual shirt, and tennis shoes, although Aidan suspected he hadn't changed since the flight just from the creases and rumples.

"Connor. One, he's been harassing me for the last week and some, not you. Two, I'm older. Three, when it comes right down to it, you're stronger but I'm faster."

"Heh. This from the woman who admits she ran away from the Kurgan twice."

Methos glanced up from his coffee. "Well, that makes four. She's smarter."

Duncan snorted. "It's irrelevant, Adam. He's been setting the rules for this, and he's challenging her. But I never heard you dodged the Kurgan twice, Aidan."

Aidan sat there rotating her neck to ease some of the tension Connor's arrival had added. "Well, the second time was when I lost track of this one for three centuries," and she jabbed a thumb at Methos. "I bolted out of Budapest because the Kurgan had finally found out where I was staying. He was in the inn ahead of me, so I just went out over the wall and into the river in what I had. I never went back for any of my gear, I was too happy to get out alive.

"The first time, though, I was in Ethiopia, working my way along one of the lesser trade routes. High as hell in the hills. Ran into him, had no idea who he was." She glanced at Duncan. "You never saw the Kurgan. Easily seven feet tall, shoulders out to here," she indicated with both hands, "and he wielded a sword as tall as I am. He charged me, we traded three shots and I knew I was in serious trouble."

She shivered remembering. "The first shot slammed our swords against my chest, the second threw me against the side of the mountain hard enough to make me see stars, and the third exposed bone from knee to opposite hip. I did the only thing I could. I went off the side of the mountain." Her eyes watched those mountains for a moment, then she shook herself back to the present.

"I do not recommend an eight hundred foot drop into forty feet of water as a way to die. That hurt. I finally washed ashore a good sixty miles downstream. It took that long for my wounds to heal, and Ramirez had taught me not to be afraid of drowning." She traded a reminiscent smile with Connor. "You remember."

"I remember. Damn Spanish peacock, I'm glad I finally got his quickening."

Aidan looked malicious for a second. "I hope he taunted the Kurgan for all four hundred years, myself. If anyone could make their host hear him, Ramirez could. However, back to our original discussion..." and she nailed Connor into his seat with her eyes, "... I get this one for the simple reason that I want him. Now, if you behave yourself and don't argue with me about it, I promise I'll show you the full version of that dance, in and out of the appropriate clothes, as soon as I unpack said clothes."

Connor thought about it, weighed all the evening's arguments and nodded. "Done. But if you get killed, I nail the bastard's ears to the ground and kill him slowly several times. Then we fight over who gets his head."

Methos shook his head, looking amused. "Connor. Did you ask her where the clothes were? And we're not fighting over it -- I get his head if it comes to that. I've known her longest, by quite a bit. You two have only met her this decade."

"Where are they? Robert, you never remind me about these things in time."

"You're still in my debt, Connor, not the other way around. By my reckoning you owe me about three hundred dollars. Of course that's only three percent, compounded annually, not quarterly, but I was feeling generous." Methos nodded to him. "And it's Adam these days."

"They're on their way from New York, I hope." Aidan smiled at Connor. "But you already agreed. It's not my fault if you didn't nail down all the details. Now then, tell me what he's been doing to you, and then I'm going back to bed. You can get my story over breakfast tomorrow." She looked up at the clock and shook her head. "Today, rather. Duncan, remind me to unset the alarm clock. To the hells with it, we'll get up when we get up."

Connor shrugged. "I was planning on coming out tomorrow to settle you in and visit my kinsman here. For the last few days someone has been trying to hack into the shop computer. Yesterday, on a friend's advice, I let him. We spiked his signal and tracked him as far as Seacouver, before we lost him. The only things he accessed were your records and ownership on my shop. He wants my attention, I thought I'd give it to him." Feral pleasure shone in his eyes at the thought.

"Don't be so greedy, I told you I get him. But you can get some sleep before you help with the house tomorrow. Today rather."

"I only said I'd help you unpack, sister. When did I agree to that?"

"We could spar for it if you'd rather. But you'll still help, you'll just get pinpricked to death first. Save yourself grief, Connor. Agree." She watched him, an amused half-smile on her lips.

"Damn, woman, how do you get me into these things?" He ran a hand through his hair again, more rueful than annoyed.

"I learned it from Ramirez. Anyway, I'm going back to bed. Enjoy the couch, Connor."

He straightened up, looking indignant. "The couch? Why me?"

Aidan grinned at him, already unbuttoning the shirt. "For three reasons. One, you're the one who didn't warn us you were coming so that we could see what we could do about housing for you. Two, it's Duncan's house, so he definitely gets the bed. Three, after Duncan you're the youngest. You get the couch. Sleep well." She walked back to bed, settled her sword into place, stripped off the shirt and shorts and crawled back under the sheets.

"Don't stay up talking all night, you three." She curled up and closed her eyes, muttering in Greek, "Men. Sweet Goddess, were they really a good idea?"

Methos choked on his coffee but refused to translate for the other two.

* * * *

Aidan finished doing what she could for breakfast without waking the other three, then took her sword and went downstairs to the dojo. At six on a Monday morning, no one was likely to interrupt or be startled by live steel, and she couldn't sleep any more. Taking advantage of the quiet and solitude, she stretched out slowly then began to practice.

Dagger forms first -- swift supple movements that slid in and out around the sunlight. Her body nice and loose, Aidan switched to sword forms with and without the dagger, dancing and striking again and again, working the room's equipment into her patterns as both obstacles and targets.

Sweat dripped off her and thoughts faded away as she wrapped herself into familiar katas. Slowly she worked herself into the state where she didn't have weapons as such, simply longer, sharper arms. She spun and struck, tumbled and rebalanced, without paying attention to the time or the heat. Nothing mattered but the sharp edges in her hands, the opponents her mind's eye provided to strike or parry. The weight bench has just died valiantly, again, when she felt an immortal behind her.

She spun, still half in that meditative state. Connor sat on the stairs, katana out. "Still irritated?"

"No. I'm sorry about last night." She settled onto the stair below him. "I shouldn't have said some of it."

Connor shrugged. "If you ever come after my head, you'll warn me. And I'd have to do worse than show up at two in the morning." He watched her out of black-rimmed gold eyes. "You're worrying. What is it?"

"Nothing I can do anything about. So I try not to worry."

He snorted. "Try harder." Connor pulled her to her feet. "How out of practice are you?"

Aidan chuckled softly. "Best two out of three?"

"What stakes?"

"Loser lets the winner drive to my place."

He shuddered. "At least you didn't suggest the loser cook breakfast. I wouldn't want you to throw the matches."

* * * *

Connor walked out of the freight elevator and turned slowly to get the full effect. Off to his right, a kitchen took up most of that quarter of the house with what he suspected was a half-bath tucked against the side of the elevator column. A work island stood on the edge of the tiled section, about three feet from the sinks; a hanging rack for pots and pans dangled empty over it.

As he kept looking counterclockwise along the wall, the tiling extended just past a washer and dryer. Wood floors ran past a radiator on into the next corner. So far that corner was empty. In the middle of the wall opposite the freight elevator stood another radiator. Starting about two feet left of it, bookshelves and cabinets surrounded the windows all the way down the wall to the corner opposite the kitchen. The shelves rose to just under the window sills, then extended eight feet up in between the casements.

An enclosed room, maybe four feet by five feet, took up that corner with a lever-release fire door accessing it. Just past that room (a stairwell, maybe?) more shelves and cabinets marched down the wall again, stopping a couple feet from that wall's radiator. An open-faced closet sat against a long enclosed room; glass bricks curved out from the room to enclose much of the tiled floor left of the elevator. Connor walked over to look more closely and discovered it was another, larger half-bath which accessed the largest shower area he'd seen outside commercial gyms. The curving glass wall gave the shower privacy from the rest of the room.

Twin sinks and vanity stood next to the shower and abutted a raised tub big enough for three to five people, depending on how well they got along, which had no privacy from the room whatsoever. Well, someone in the kitchen couldn't see through the elevator to ogle a person in the tub, but the rest of the room had wonderful sightlines. The tub was surrounded on three sides by wooden ledges, possibly to set drinks on? Or candles? Connor was making no bets where Aidan was concerned.

In the dead center of the room, a five by five foot area had been tiled and ducting ran along the ceiling to it, but didn't connect to anything yet. Connor studied the room as a whole now, seeing eight windows on a side; all started four feet off the floor and ran a good ten feet up the walls. The pale wood floor reflected all the incoming light wonderfully and four ceiling fans circulated the air around. Track lights on the ceiling aimed at different areas in the center of the room.

Boards still lay around to be assembled into shelves, a pile of bricks sat on a tarp near the shower area, and other building remnants were scattered, but still....

"Remind me, Aidan. Why didn't I let you redesign my place?"

She laughed, pleased with the backhanded compliment. "I did draw up the plans, Connor, but you looked at how long it would take and said you needed to go out of town and let Rachel handle it. You were going to schedule a buying trip to Europe, you said."

"Too late, I take it?"

"Not really, but I'll have to dig the drawings out of my boxes when they arrive."

Connor grinned at her. "You just want me to help you unpack. So where do we start?"

In unison, Duncan and Adam replied, "There's the list!"

The four of them spent the afternoon and evening building shelves on the first floor and laying a brick column up the wall on each floor to conceal the plumbing and ducting. To Aidan's disgust, she even got a call on the newly-installed phone -- a telemarketer tried to sell her vinyl siding.

On the second floor, her planned living quarters, Aidan quite calmly started laying another brick column on the opposite wall, between the radiator and the washer/dryer. When Adam moved to help, she cheerfully told him to only lay the two sides at ninety degrees from the walls.

Methos very sarcastically commented, "Oh, not that old trick."

The two MacLeods looked over, interested in this one. Aidan replied, "Why not? No one but you and I remember it, and I'd bet you never look for it anymore."

"Look for what, Aidan?"

Duncan walked over to see what she was up to, only to be told, "You'll understand on Wednesday when I finish them. Trust me, Duncan, you'll like this."

Connor grinned at her. "Do I want to know?"

"Do you need to be able to deny knowing where those Italian daggers are?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"No, not really. I just can't sell them until his students quit trying to find me."

Aidan rolled her eyes, but carefully didn't say anything. Methos eyed her, a wicked smile on his face. "What, no comment, Edana? Why do I seem to remember something about a pearl and opal brooch...."

Aidan glared at him. "Do you just want to cook dinner?"

"No, I was thinking you could buy us dinner somewhere other than Denny's if we got moving--"

Connor watched back and forth and Duncan muttered, "I'd stay out of it, cousin, unless you just want to buy. This is normal for these two."

Aidan finally sighed and replied, "As soon as we finish this column, then. I buy, you don't tell anyone that story. Done?"

"Done." Methos looked at the two Scots. "One of you want to bring the ladder? And some more bricks? The sooner we're done, the sooner we eat."

* * * *

Gustav watched from the parking area, patient as he would have been on any other hunt. The lights on the top floor finally went out, then the other floors went dark as they worked their way out. She was always methodical, which would only add to the pleasure. Careful prey gave more satisfaction as they went down; they panicked so beautifully as control shifted away from them.

As usual Elektra came out first, ready to go for her sword, then moved to let the others out. As soon as the men walked out the door, Gustav turned the switch in the ignition. While they were still blinded by his car lights, he roared out the driveway. For a moment he was startled to see four of them, not three. And the sense of immortal presence was stronger....

All the way back to the hotel he debated it. Had she called in reinforcements? He would have thought one of the old priest's students would be a stickler for the one-on-one rule. On the other hand, perhaps he had been right about Russell Nash being an immortal, not just an antique dealer. Someone at that computer had certainly tried to track his signal. It was remotely possible the man had come to Seacouver.

_No, I will stick with my plan. Tomorrow, I take her on her way to work. As for the other immortal, it may well be Nash. I will start inquiries tomorrow night from home. If not, her will should make interesting reading; American courts will always let you buy a copy._

Another immortal to hunt? This year may yet be truly exceptional, one way or another.

* * * *

Connor, Duncan, and Methos were arguing in a booth about what the other immortal was up to, but Aidan had waited until the end of the night, then offered Joe a deal. She would close the register and tidy up if he would play for her. Done with her part, she sat sideways on the edge of the stage, one leg on the floor and the other drawn up against her chest. Arms wrapped around her leg, she sat listening with eyes closed, chin on knee. Joe lost himself in the music and took her with him, much to her relief.

Release lay here, she knew. Everything she could think of to do had been done. Her fighting skills were honed, as were her weapons of both flesh and steel. All she could do now was relax her mind in the hope that when the attack came she would react without thought. Not thinking came hardest to her of anything she had learned in all her centuries and drove her near madness some days. Grateful for the help, she surrendered herself to Joe's music and went away.

A gentle hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present. Joe said quietly, "I think they're ready to go if you are."

She opened her eyes, calm again. Sure enough, Duncan stood there waiting with her coat. Methos held her gaze for a second, then nodded once. Somehow that support made it much easier to speak in normal tones. "I don't doubt it. It's been a long day, especially for me and Connor." She pointed to Methos and Duncan with her chin. "We let them sleep. Good night, Joe, thank you for playing. I'll see you in the morning for setup, correct?"

"Yeah, Renee had a dentist's appointment, so she and I switched. I get the night off for once."

Aidan chuckled. "You won't know what to do with yourself. See you then."

* * * *

Aidan kept half an eye out for her stalker as she maneuvered through the streets on her way to the bar. The rest of her attention flitted between traffic, work to be done on the brick columns, and hoping that the elevator gates would go on properly. She had forgotten to turn the radio on as usual; the explosion under the hood therefore did not sound like part of any song.

Her brain never had any part of her next several decisions. She fought the truck over to the side of the road, feeling the steering barely respond and hearing metal grating on gravel. Absently she noticed that the hood was listing sharply to the right and fumes were pouring out from under the truck. Smoke and burned plastic scented the air already. Even as she turned off the ignition she felt an immortal and saw movement off to her left. _The other side of the street and moving fast._

She slapped her seatbelt off with one hand, as the other slammed the unlock button for the doors. Aidan grabbed her coat as she bailed out of the truck from the passenger side, heading for maneuvering room and a bit more privacy. Within five strides she had hit her full speed and was headed straight for the river, grateful she had always liked traveling near water. There should be clear space somewhere ahead....

_A gazelle indeed! Who'd have thought she'd go across the seat like that?_ He ran, not so graceful but fully as fast, hounding his prey down his chosen line. He noted absently that as usual his advance work had paid off. On the two possible turn-offs, she took one look at the clutter down the alleys and kept going along the path to the river. Now to speed her up some....

Aidan could hear him behind her. When his pace slowed, she glanced back. _Oh sweet Mother, that's a .45 at least!_ Immediately, she swerved left, then right. Intent on evasion as she was, it was a complete surprise when the ground dropped out from under her.

She coiled herself into it as best she could but felt ribs give way when she hit the edge of the retaining wall. The right arm wrenched painfully as she hit the concrete. Still rolling, she came up onto her feet in time to see her pursuer descend the slope a good bit less precipitously, dropping the gun on the grass as he came. Without pause she threw the Arkansas toothpick at him with one hand and a boot knife with the other. The boot knife drove into his thigh as he twisted to avoid the stiletto-shaped toothpick.

The leg wound slowed him just enough. She pulled her saber out of the coat, settling it into her left hand as he jumped to the pavement. When he pulled the knife out of his leg, he dropped it to the ground scornfully. Aidan appraised him swiftly and decided she would only have a problem if the shoulder took too long to heal. _Strong, but not quick. Well, I certainly have practice at this. This should be survivable, if I'm not stupid._

He was perhaps two inches taller than she was, a good forty pounds heavier, mostly through the chest and shoulders. Short gold-blond hair that wouldn't get into his eyes.... Was that a dueling scar? He certainly looked Germanic. Icy blue eyes glared at her, noting her sword. He pulled out a bastard sword a good four inches longer than her own weapon and spun the blade in a figure eight as he came at her in a rush, slashing at her left side and then the right.

She parried sharply, thrusting the blows aside rather than letting him close and overwhelm her with sheer mass. Body dancing sideways, still deflecting his strikes, she led him around until neither of them faced that wall. Breathing hurt as her body strove to repair damaged ribs. Another minute and I should be able to use the dagger without dropping it. _Oh, Gods, this is not good terrain for me. Not enough room and gravel everywhere there is room. Can't even go into the river; I'd never make the water before he took my head from behind. Very well, then, let's play what's he's dealt me. Experience must count for something, damn it!_

Gustav tried to force his way through her guard, surprised by her skill. Even one handed, she held him off and away. _Time to do something before she manages to use that arm._ Deliberately he allowed her to land a cut across his thigh; in exchange, he opened up her right arm, high up where the blood would run swiftly down to the elbow and hand. Only as he backed away again did he realize how deeply she had managed to slice. It would be at least two minutes before that leg could be trusted.

"By God, you may be dangerous after all." What twisted his lips was not, properly speaking, a smile. "Karl Gustav von Stengel. And you would be Elektra Mycenas." To his surprise, she made no sound, only shook her head, a dangerous, merry wickedness in her eyes.

"Cat got your tongue? Or did you fall so badly as that?" He lashed out at her twice as he spoke, trying to drive her into position for his final attack. She ducked under the second attack, rolling past him and slicing into his back before he turned to face her. The leg wound slowed him more than he had planned.

Finally she spoke. "No. To all." Aidan drew a deep breath as her ribs finally settled into place, and struck at him with sword and kick simultaneously. The kick didn't contact firmly enough to do damage, but it startled him and for a long minute she controlled the fight. Her attacks followed a classic Italian fencing pattern but Gustav was too busy parrying to try to take advantage of it. Indeed, only his recognition of the form saved him some nasty gashes. Her speed made up entirely for his strength, to the point that fear began to climb in him. Was he outmatched at last?

Twice in that pattern, she moved almost into position, but he was entirely too busy to take advantage of it. Finally, he deliberately took the strike into his arm, and used his other arm to backhand her with the full force of his greater weight while her blade was pinned. With great satisfaction, he noticed that it took her several seconds to fully recover from the blow. She had rolled with it, though, and the jaw wasn't broken. What a pity; he'd had hopes.

Now Gustav controlled the fight. She took several gashes across legs and arms as he tried to force her into position, but nothing that would slow her enough. Frustrated, he parried her sword away and kicked her while her blade was out of line, but she blocked it with her leg. The sheer force threw her back and away, but she rolled to her feet obviously unhurt. Worse, she tossed her saber into her right hand and drew a dagger from her boot.

"You should have challenged me in the alley a week ago." Aidan launched her attack in dead earnest now, arm and shoulder recovered. The sword drove his own blade out and away and she scored his ribs and arms with that dagger. Within her first few dodging attacks, Gustav realized in shock that he might well be surpassed by this woman. Sheer rage gave him the necessary strength to throw back her attack.

With a particularly vicious strike, he forced her saber out of the way and duplicated her own fighting style, pivoting around his own sword arm to hit her in the ribs with his elbow. She still managed to catch him in the side with the dagger as the wind went out of her, but he pulled her knife with him as he moved back. He yanked the blade out of his side, throwing it contemptuously at her coat. "You'd have only died sooner."

Aidan shook her head, braid lashing behind her. She parried his attacks with more difficulty now, trying to get a full breath. When she could straighten again, she forced out, "Why attack me? Have I killed one of your students?" _That was stupid. Can't let him close on me again._

He laughed and struck at her, seeing the effort she had to put into blocking his mass. Her dancing, darting style had slowed as well. Perhaps -- finally? -- she was tiring? "No, I don't take students. They're useless drains of energy."

_I can't let him tag me like that again, that felt like Duncan landing on me in the dojo._ She feinted left, then sliced across his chest as his sword moved out of line. Out of instinct, she had pulled her torso back and to the right as she did so. His kick just barely missed her stomach. Now Aidan threw herself into a diving roll at the wall to retrieve her thrown boot knife.

_Almost there. If I can move her another foot to the right, she should come forward enough on a lunge to be in perfect position. But what is she doing?_ Gustav reached into his overcoat pocket for the transmitter, trusting his own strength to hold her off one-handed with the bastard sword. He stepped back from her, his sword dropping just barely too far off guard.

Aidan came up and for the first time in this fight, she slammed his weapon out of line with knife instead of sword. She stepped forward and to the left, moving into the empty space she had just created in front of him with her blade. _NOW!_

Gustav pulled the transmitter out as she moved into place between his skull markers, and his eyes flicked down for half a second to hit the correct button. He smiled and said, "Goodbye." His thumb hit the button just as her saber drove right with all her strength behind it in the vicious backhand she had learned from Methos.

Afterwards, Aidan sorted it all out. Her sword drove through his neck, the malicious smile still on his face as the head flew off. Blood trailed off her blade as it kept going for another foot or so from residual momentum. As usual, the crackling lightning of a quickening cauterized the neck immediately; no blood fountained up. Her saber emerged from the far side of his neck at the same time that something slammed into her lower back with hideous force.

Her legs went out from under her, crumpling, spilling her forward onto the ground. Oddly, the first thing she noticed was that her knees didn't hurt from the impact. She could taste blood in her mouth where she had bitten through a lip. She had caught herself on her hands automatically, blade hilts under palms. Looking down, the first thing that registered was the bloodstained arrowhead standing out from her shirt with red pouring out around it to stain her formerly robin's-egg blue blouse.

_Oh, Mother._ Already mist had begun to spring up around her opponent's body; tiny electrical surges crawled on his body like miniature Jakob's ladders. _This is going to hurt._

The energy swirled around Gustav's body, poured up from neck, torso, and severed head into a coiling tower that seethed and then struck at her. Aidan screamed in pleasure and pain as all her nerves overloaded almost immediately. The quickening flung her back, arms spread to ward off the power or call it in she was never sure, then tossed her up, pressing her up from the ground. Memories and sensations poured across her, arrogance and evil, determination and prejudice, a stubborn will which would not believe he had lost. She screamed again, using her name and its meanings to maintain herself against his final attack.

"Edana! Flame, I am flame! I -- am -- Edana!" She kindled the image of the old balefires in her mind, burning away what was left of her opponent. She consumed herself with fire and light, remaking herself again, giving him no purchase to overshadow her mind and will. Lightning crawled off her hands, ricocheted off the weapons on the concrete, buffeted against the retaining wall. Electricity shimmered and walked across the corpse and her coat, then battered back at her and was absorbed at last.

Aidan fell as the quickening faded with no way to control the impact. Agony tore through her, worse than she had felt in years, as she landed on her back and the quarrel moved even farther through her torso. Blood loss, pain, and shock combined to stop her heart and she died.

Twelve minutes later she drew a shuddering breath and automatically tried to sit up, to reach for her weapons. Anguish scored white lines down her sight as stomach muscles contracted around the invader. When Aidan could draw a second breath she raised her head only and looked down her torso. Memory returned as she saw the quarrel standing out from the center of her shirt.

Whimpering softly -- it hurt too much to do it loudly -- she wrapped one hand carefully under the arrowhead and settled her head back onto the concrete. With her free hand, Aidan arranged her braid to cushion the back of her head which still hurt from the fall. Deliberately she turned her mind to the sounds of the water, the smell of Duncan's aftershave, the feel of Methos' body wrapped around her as they slept. When the muscles of her back and stomach were as relaxed as they were going to get, Aidan yanked the quarrel up and out with the same motion and force she'd have used drawing her sword.

She convulsed against the pain, muscles spasming and yanking her head up, then back down to slam into the concrete again. Blood gouted, staining her jeans and pooling around her body. For the second time in this conflict, Aidan died and for more than twenty long minutes, her body did not move.

* * * *

Joe looked up at the clock, surprised and irritated. It was twenty after ten. Where the hell was Aidan? Unless they had simply lost track of time working on the house. He gave up and picked up the phone, pulling out the new number she had given him on Friday.

"Highland Construction, can we help you?" Duncan hadn't been able to resist the joke.

"Duncan, it's Joe. Did Aidan run late today, or do I get to fire the woman for forgetting to come at all?" He managed to keep his tone light, but he was tired already from staying up last night playing for her. Joe forgot all about that when he heard MacLeod's reply.

"Joe, she should have been there at least fifteen minutes ago. She left here at quarter of." The suddenly controlled voice from the other end of the line made Joe's skin crawl. "Are you saying that she never made it?"

"Yeah, Mac, that's what I'm saying. Any of you three got a cell phone?" Joe forgot exhaustion as he began to worry.

"No, we don't. Look, Joe, try to call her cell phone. You've got the number?" As soon as he heard the affirmative, Duncan continued, "We're going to take both cars and try a couple of the different routes she's been taking. He had to catch her somewhere on the way. If it was just car trouble, she'd call you. Stay there so that she can contact someone."

Joe hung up the phone when he heard the dial tone and called Aidan's cell phone. His heart fell when there was no answer, but he wasn't surprised. Grimly he began to set up the bar, keeping the phone where he could grab it if it rang. Every five minutes he hit the redial, hoping.

Duncan turned away from the phone to see Connor handing him his coat. "We heard. Adam will drive my car. Settle which routes you're taking. I'll close up the house."

* * * *

This time it didn't hurt as much to move when she woke. Aidan could feel something damp and clammy on her skin, but the overwhelming sensation was pain. Her legs hurt incredibly, and she felt everything from burns to cold, pinpricks to cuts. Every kind of agony she had ever known had randomly distributed itself from her hips down to the toes. Old skills kept the sounds down to moans instead of screams and she forced herself up on her arms to look around.

Her weapons were about six feet away, off to her right; her coat lay a good eight feet past them, near her enemy's body and his sword. Nothing happened when she tried to move her leg. Despite the fact that she'd expected it, Aidan flinched. That kind of agonizing, random pain always meant severe nerve damage; given where the quarrel had been, the spinal cord must have been nicked at least, probably severed.

_This is why Methos always insisted we train with real steel, take real wounds. So that I would know how to move through pain. Some days I hate it when he's right. Goddess, did you have to make this so difficult? This will take forever to heal, assuming I get out of this at all. Well, if I don't get moving, I definitely won't make it out._

Deliberately, she pulled herself forward, using her arms and shoulders. When she got to full extension, Aidan reached back and pulled her legs up under her. Again and again and again.... Her hands left bloody prints as she inched forward, and the trail of blood from her torso lay across the ground like a giant child's attempt at painting.

Faintly she could hear her cell phone ringing but it might as well be in the river for all the good it did her right now. _On the other hand, that means the case insulated it properly. I had wondered if it would work. Nice to know for future reference. I'm half-dead and worrying about insulation; I can't afford hysterics right now, I have to hold this together for a little while yet._

Aidan whimpered as she moved, a continuous sound she never even registered. Finally she reached her weapons and sobbed with relief. Despite her best intentions she lay there for a few minutes, taking a desperately needed break. The cell phone rang again and jarred her back into motion.

It took even longer to reach her former opponent. Aidan took enough time to rifle his body for papers, wallet, keys, and jewelry. It gave her an excuse not to move yet. Finally, she leaned over his body and pulled her coat to her with the tip of the saber. _Karl Gustav something he said. Idiot. I should have never let him force me into a kill zone. I haven't been this stupid in ages. Please, Lady, I'll never be such a fool again if you will make him not have had a partner. Although he did seem too arrogant...._

Now to get my back against a wall. I'll call in to Joe's after I do. Got to get to what little shelter I can manage. Wish I weren't so dizzy. Loss of blood? Wonder what time it is? My watch blew up again. Oh, well, this is why I buy the cheap ones. I see his Rolex bought it, too.

Slowly, Aidan began the trip back to the retaining wall. She had settled all the weapons into the various loops and sheathes tailored into the duster, and had put all of his papers in there as well. Flinging the coat ahead of her while maintaining her grip on the collar, she pulled herself even with it and then started again. The cell phone rang, but she didn't hear it above her own whimpering and her despairing need to get to some form of safety or defense.

* * * *

Joe looked up, hoping, and closed his eyes briefly when he saw Connor come in with Methos and Duncan. Aidan wasn't with them and Methos was talking as they came in.

"Are you sure this is how she was coming in, Duncan? How else could she have been doing it?"

"No luck, Joe?" Duncan looked over from the discussion and read the answer on Joe's face.

"No answer, Mac, but cell phones blow up around quickenings, too. She may simply not be receiving the calls."

Connor just stared at him, eyes dark in the dim room. "Aidan's been gone an hour. She should be here by now."

Joe sighed and poured himself a shot of scotch. "Anyone else?" He set out glasses and listened as Duncan and Methos started discussing exactly where to check next for her truck. Connor went out to his rental car and came back with a map. They were debating exactly which ways to search when Joe picked the phone up and hit the redial button again.

* * * *

_What the hell was that? Oh, I was asleep? Passed out is more like it. Cell phone, that's it._ Aidan pulled her coat up to her, keeping her back against the wall. It hurt less if she didn't move her neck or torso. The phone had quit ringing by the time she managed to get the case out and opened. She didn't care. Now that she had been reminded, she knew what a phone was and how to use it.

_I haven't hurt this much in ages. Wonder how long this will take to heal this time?_ Drawing a long, careful breath, she forced down the whimpers rising steadily from her throat and dialed the number for Joe's Bar.

"Joe's." Joe answered the phone himself, voice harsh with controlled emotions.

"It's Aidan. Are they there?" The weak, careful voice dumped adrenaline through Joe's system and made his heart jump.

"Yeah, damn it, hold on." Joe handed the phone to Duncan, who happened to be closest.

"Is it over? Where are you?" Duncan kept his voice steady as he focused on getting her within arm's reach. Time enough then to shake Aidan within an inch of her life for terrifying them.

"I won, yes. I don't quite know the location. I did some running." A long pause from the other side of the phone, then she spoke again. "This is the route I took...." She gave precise turns, sounding weaker by the word. "He blew up my truck somewhere before I made that last turn."

"Blew up?! What! Never mind. Where from there?" Joe watched the rage burning in three sets of eyes, not knowing that his face held the same expression. Karl Gustav von Stengel had better hope he was dead.

Duncan listened carefully, then nodded firmly. "We'll be there, Aidan. Stay where you are, so we don't have to go hunting for you, all right?"

A long silence followed that. "Aidan? Aidan, answer me, damn it. Are you there?"

"Duncan. I'm here." He heard a long intake of breath that sounded painful. "I'll be here. If you can, there's a duffel bag in the back of my truck. Get it. But hurry. I can't walk."

That stopped him cold. "What happened? Will it heal?"

"It'll heal." Her voice was so thin he could barely hear it, and the younger man thought for a second she'd disconnected. Then she repeated, "Hurry."

Joe heard the dial tone as Duncan put the phone back on the hook. "Joe, we'll call you when we've got her." The three immortals headed back out the door, Duncan answering questions as they went.

* * * *

_Done. Now I wait, and soon I can pass out. This hurts. No, think of something else, there's no time for such maudlin weakness. It's only pain. It's not like that will kill you -- of itself._ Aidan looked up at the scuff of shoes on concrete. Eyeing the teenager coming around the corner, her immediate reaction was to wonder what she had done wrong in that past life twenty-seven centuries or so ago.

He poked cautiously around, tall and gawky, with more bravado than courage. She was not reassured. Those were usually the ones who carried guns and couldn't aim. _Gun control is hitting your target. Get your mind on business, woman._

From twenty yards away, Aidan could read his body language. Curiosity gave way to shock and fear when he saw Gustav's decapitated body. When he saw the pool of blood where her body had lain, he went from white to green. He stared for a long time, fascinated and repelled, trying not to be sick. Then he bolted.

_Thank you, Mother. I promise, a goblet of the best I can find goes out tonight. Duncan will live with my turning one of his tables into an altar for a night or so._

Aidan whispered old songs to the Goddess for a little while, distracting herself from the pain, waiting for her friends. The dizziness began to ease, as did the nausea, and she sighed with relief. That must have been one hell of a concussion to last so long.

Five teen-agers strode around the curve of the walkway and her heart sank. She didn't see anything in the clothing that told her they were a gang, but the body language spoke volumes. She had seen the young fighters, the punks, the lost, in half a hundred cities and cultures before. Aidan knew at that first glance how well they worked together, who ran this wolfpack, who resented it, and which one was the weak link.

A striking black teen-ager with flaming red braids to his shoulders was obviously in charge. He looked around, noted the body, the head, the blood trails and her. He waved two of them at the body, including the tall scout. "Loot him, I want everything." The other two he shoved toward the retaining wall. "Get those fuckin' things off the wall, I want nothing up there but our markers."

The advance scout whined, "But, Dell, what about her? She had one of those swords, too!"

"Shut up, Mikie, just do what I told you. I'll deal with her."

Dell strolled over, completely unconcerned by this woman. She sat against the concrete wall, coat over her lap and legs as if she were cold. She had both hands under the cloth to keep them warm, but there was no bulge of a gun. From the color of her skin and the fixed stare, she was probably in shock, but she wasn't shivering yet and she definitely saw him. Dried blood ran from her cheek down onto her throat; those grey eyes never broke contact. She gave him the creeps.

"You're in our territory. You gonna pay passage back out, only question is how you're gonna pay." He stood in a wide-legged stance, trying to stare her down and assert his authority, but she didn't look away or down.

Aidan nodded slowly, still watching him. "Ah. I'm not trying to move in on you. I'll be out of your way in a couple hours. The mess..." and she indicated Gustav's corpse with her chin, "... will be taken care of before I leave."

Dell shook his head, red braids flashing gold where beads caught the light. "Uh-uh, you don't get this. You'll leave all right, but you gonna pay first. I want all your cash and valuables, and all of his. Then we take you out of here, you understand? People gotta see they can't mess in our territory."

Aidan drew a careful, deep breath. "The cash you can have as an apology. Anything else I keep. And I'll leave when I'm ready, not before."

Just then Mikie and the other boy looting Gustav broke in. "Dell! He ain't got shit! No wallet, nothing. Just a Rolex that blew up on his arm! This is too weird, man, let's grab the gold watch and go."

"Uh-uh, not 'til we get something out of this." He glared at Aidan. "Where's the guy's wallet, bitch, and a suit like that had jewelry or somethin'."

"He didn't have one. The watch had a good bit of 18 karat gold in the band. You should be able to get something for that." She checked her grips on the hilts of her daggers, watching him.

"I ain't settling for no watch, bitch. How the fuck did you take his head off, anyway?"

Aidan felt it then, faintly. Immortals coming: male, several of them, and strong. Friends or foes, all she needed to do was stall for just a bit longer and be ready with her throwing knives. Already she had picked her targets: the tall boy, who would be the first to go for his gun and the Vietnamese would-be rebel, who would go for any opportunity to move up in the gang.

"Answer me, ho, now! What the fuck did you do? And where's the money?"

Grey eyes locked on dark brown. "I killed him before he killed me. I have some money. You can have it if you'll leave."

"My territory, bitch. Why shouldn't I take everything you have, take you, and dump you in the river when we're done?" Dell snarled it, feeling the situation twist away from his control.

"Because once the killing starts, it doesn't stop until all five of you are dead. If I have to kill, I will kill all of you to keep you quiet. I have had enough of death today. Take my offer. Take the cash and the watch and go." Aidan threw the coat off her lap with a twist of her wrist. Her saber came up to guard within easy thrusting range of his groin. Dropping the coat, she grabbed a dagger with the other hand, holding it by the blade to throw it if necessary.

"Make this easy. Agree to the cash."

His eyes flickered from the sword, to the dried blood all over her body, back to the blades. Then he looked up in time to see his gang members listening. The scout shivered. "Dell, this is too fuckin' strange. Crazy bitch will kill some of us, she's fast. Take the money, man, let's go."

The would-be rebel started to say something. Aidan cut across his voice. "You don't run this show, child, Dell does. If you start this, you die first, my word on it." Never taking her eyes off the red-headed young man, Aidan repeated, "Take the money. Keep your lives."

"Fuckin' bitch, you can't kill all of us. Shit, you can't even move, or you would have by now."

Between his legs, Aidan saw the sweetest sight she'd seen in decades. Black overcoats flapped and morning sunlight streamed down their blades as Connor, Methos, and Duncan strode toward her. From here she could recognize the ivory hilts the MacLeod's carried, the bronze crosspiece on Methos' broadsword. Connor had gone over to a cold rage that gave her chills and even Methos was furious for once. Rather than give them away, she immediately returned her attention to the gang leader.

Aidan's voice carried clearly, calm and precise. "You're assuming I can't kill you. There's a corpse over there that says otherwise. For the last time. Take the money and get out of here. If this starts, you all die. I won't be able to leave any of you alive; I can't trust your silence once one of you is dead."

Dell stared at her. "Bitch, you are crazy. I say we can kill you and take all of it. You got any last words for that?"

Aidan could feel the other three immortals; their presence rolled over her in a wave that cut off as they got to within fifteen feet of her. She hadn't heard a sound, but knowing how long all of them had been warriors and scouts, she hadn't expected to. "So be it. 'Cry havoc! and let slip the dogs of war.' "

All of the gang members stared at her. "Say what? Speak English, bitch."

From behind them, Duncan's voice rumbled out, ominous in tone. "She did."

Dell watched the strange woman whose face had never changed. His gang members turned around to see who had spoken and froze. Behind him a second voice, cold and strangely accented, said, "She offered you a deal."

In that brief second, it became obvious why Dell was the leader. He held still and thought. Only then did he turn slowly around to see what was going on, arms out. He looked the three men over cautiously. Tall, all of them, holding swords with the same sureness he had with his switchblade. And those frozen, angry faces told him they would kill without a second thought. Three of them and that crazy bitch behind him with at least one knife she could probably throw and that same cold-blooded look to her.

Dell turned back just as slowly. "How much money?"

Aidan raised an eyebrow, then said clearly, "Just over two hundred."

"Give it to me and get the fuck out of my territory. You ever come back, we kill you."

Aidan put the dagger back in her belt then carefully reached into her overcoat. She pulled out a stack of cash and threw it to him without a word. Dell pocketed it without counting and turned to gather his people. The third man spoke, the one with the short dark hair and the straight sword. "If we should hear any stories about swords or headless bodies...." The unspoken warning needed no interpretation.

"Who the fuck would we tell? Get her out of our territory and don't come back." Dell gathered his people with his eyes and they backed off to one side, although Mikie darted in to grab the watch off the corpse first.

The three men moved without discussing anything as if they had been a team forever. The two with the curved swords moved to the woman, swearing in some weird language. The taller one carefully helped her pull the coat on. Somewhere along the way, her sword vanished. The third man, the one who had spoken last, moved to the corpse and casually stabbed it in the chest twice then sliced the stomach open. That done he wiped the blade on the dead man's shirt, then slung it inside his coat. With a grunt of effort he picked up the corpse and threw it out into the water, kicking the head after as an afterthought.

Methos turned back and walked over to Aidan. "Ready to go?"

In Gaelic she replied, "I can't walk, old friend. And there's a weapon on the grass directly above me that I want before we leave. A .45."

Methos looked up. "I see it. Half a moment, then." He scrambled up and pocketed the gun, then came back. "Now?"

"Yes, please." Aidan wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and bit her lip as Methos picked her up. Her face went deathly white against his black coat and she closed her eyes, fighting the urge to either scream or be sick.

He could feel the tension in her arms; the hiss of breath told him just how badly this hurt. Still in Gaelic her teacher said, "Just hold on until we get around the curve, all right? They're still watching us. Duncan and Connor are walking backwards covering us."

As they passed out of sight of the gang members, Methos switched back to English. "Duncan, put her out, damn it, she's going to scream soon."

Duncan reached over and ran his free hand hard down the inside of her arm, then he ran an equally rough touch from her temple back into her hairline. Aidan sagged immediately. Connor scooped up her duffel bag from where they'd left it and they moved as quickly toward Duncan's car as Methos could carry her.

As soon as they reached the T-bird, Connor helped get her into the back seat, then said, "I'll call AAA and get her truck towed to your place, kinsman. You two get her back and cleaned up."

Methos handed him her cell phone. "Don't forget to call Joe while you're waiting. Ask him if he can get hold of some painkillers somehow, about three days worth for a normal metabolism."

Connor nodded. "Get moving. Better she wake up clean and in a bed."

* * * *

Watching Methos, Duncan decided against offering to help with Aidan. He didn't think his friend would accept. Instead, he carried her duffel and opened doors as Methos moved straight toward the bathroom with her. He did wonder if he'd heard correctly, though, when the older immortal said, "Strip down and give me a hand with her."

"Excuse me?" Duncan blinked, but he dropped the duffel on the floor and began to peel his shirt off. "What's up?"

"Edana isn't. She's covered in blood, and she can't stand. It'll take one of us to hold her up and the other to clean her off. No point in soaking our own clothes." Methos cradled her carefully, trying not to put extra strain on her back. He knew from experience what had taken her legs out for this long, and exactly how badly a spine hurt as it healed.

Right now he was just grateful that the Highlander wasn't arguing. Duncan looked around, then said, "Hold her for another minute, I'll be right back." Methos swore in particularly emphatic Russian, knowing the younger man would understand it. When Duncan brought back a stool and put it in the tub, though, Methos promptly forgave him.

"That's a wonderful idea." The older immortal settled Aidan carefully, balancing her in place as she began to stir. She was whimpering in quiet little pants that hurt worse to hear than moaning would have. "Can you put her under again?"

Duncan had quickly stripped out of the rest of his clothes and now reached to balance Aidan. "I can, but is that a good idea? Breathing water is not going to help her heal."

"Neither will screaming." Methos pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the nearest flat surface, then bent to quickly unlace hiking boots. "All right, we'll let her decide. She has an unholy tolerance for pain. By the way, play along with me on anything I do. I'll give you any explanations later, if you still need them." He piled clean towels on the counter, stripped off the rest of his clothes, then started the hot water.

"Umm, don't we need to get her undressed?" Duncan threw her pony tail holder away seeing how badly it was caked in blood. He looked down at her boots, decided they belonged to Saint Jude, too.

"I'll get the shoes. The rest of it we'll want to soak off her. I suspect her skin's hypersensitive right now with the spinal cord still healing." He made quick work of her boots and dropped them in the trash. When her whimpers stopped abruptly, Methos said acidly, "I could have sworn ducking was on the curricula that decade."

"He was taller. I couldn't duck, I was busy cutting his head off." Aidan sounded hoarse, tired, and annoyed. "I'm alive, and he isn't. That is what you trained me for."

Methos caught Duncan's eye over her head and mouthed, 'Trust me.' Then he continued, "Oh, yes, it's what I taught you. I'm not sure how well you learned it, though."

"I'm not going to argue this with you now, Connor is just going to want to hear it later. Where is he?" Aidan drew herself up on the stool and fell silent as pain poured through her for a long moment. When she could see and hear again, Duncan was unbuttoning her shirt.

"--once, I'd like to take your clothes off you for something pleasant, Aidan." The water ran off her in dark red swirls down the drain, and Duncan went on, "Most of us just shred the clothes, did you have to re-dye yours? I really don't think rust red is your color."

Methos grinned at that shot but composed his face before Aidan could see. "He has a point you know. How much blood do you still have in your veins, woman? Sweet Gods."

She snapped, "Actually, yes it is my color, Duncan. And I know the wound bled like hell. Believe me, I know. Do you want an IOU to clean your bathroom?"

"Actually, yes, I do." He deliberately mocked her voice, having seen where Methos was going with this. The arguments and sarcasm kept her mind off the pain.

"Fine, you have it. Gods, I know I'm going to owe you all favors until doomsday!"

Methos remarked, "You still owe me favors from before we visited Rome, Edana. Lean your head against me so I can get your hair. And hush." As an afterthought he added, "Don't even think about biting me, either."

Despite the sarcastic comments, Duncan and Methos worked very carefully not to hurt her any further. They did however deliberately annoy, irritate, and insult Aidan throughout the shower. It succeeded wonderfully in occupying her mind and taught the Scot threats and imprecations he had never heard before, although some of them were muffled by the water.

"You want to lie on the bed or sit in the chair? It's going to hurt regardless." Methos stole Duncan's pajama top for her, and noted with satisfaction that she was feeling well enough to slap his hands away and button it herself.

"I do have clean clothes in the duffel bag, Methos."

"And what else? That has to weigh thirty pounds, Edana!"

"Oh, this and that. Clean clothes, spare sword, new identity, money, minor details like that. The chair, please, I don't want to count the beams in the ceiling all day."

She began to carefully detangle the end of her hair as Duncan laughed, "And you call me a Boy Scout, Methos?"

"Oh, hush! Is there any vodka, Duncan? It would be a shame to waste good scotch and I freely admit I'm going to pour it straight down as an anesthetic." Aidan settled herself as comfortably as she could. The pain came and went in waves now, and the hardest thing was keeping it off her face when it hit. Working on her hair gave her an excuse to hide occasionally.

Duncan handed her a small glass, saying, "Well, at least you aren't going to do this--"

All three of them went still as another immortal moved into range. Aidan reached reflexively for a sword that wasn't there and Duncan moved between her and the two doors. Methos glanced out the window and commented, "Connor. Aidan's truck is outside."

The elevator grate screeched up and Joe walked in followed by Connor, who commented, "He followed me in, what can I say?"

Joe headed straight for Aidan. "Young lady, don't you ever scare me like that again! Take three of these, and then I want to know what the hell you did that needs painkillers."

She stared at him and then said longingly, "Oh, Gods, what is it, Joe, and the dosage?"

"Demerol. The way you handle alcohol, three of them ought to blur the edges at least for a few hours." Joe handed Methos the bottle with the rest of the meds. "Always helps to know who to call."

Duncan caught his eye and mouthed, 'Anne?' Joe nodded once.

Connor waited until she had taken the pills, then said, "So. What happened?"

"Ah, Gods, Connor, we were both right. You're stronger; I'm faster. So then..." Aidan contemplated the glass in her hands, then sighed. "If I can talk one of you into trading this for something non-alcoholic, I'll talk."

Methos handed her his water. "Here. Talk."

Aidan took a sip, then put it down on the table and closed her eyes. "It started with the explosion under the car...."

".... The quarrel hit me in the back just as my sword went through his neck."

When she showed no inclination to continue the story, Connor simply said, "You got lucky."

"Luckier than you know. I was stupid, Connor, but he was stupid and arrogant. He thought I was younger than you."

"What? How?" Joe stared at her. "He went to this kind of trouble for a three or four hundred year old immortal?"

"No, for a two hundred year old. Darius helped me set up a new identity in the early 1800s, down to forging baptism and confirmation records in the parish register. I think we even borrowed a young orphan with the right coloring and did a photo, daguerreotype, wha'ever." Aidan's speech began to slur as the painkillers finally struck with a vengence.

"He kept callin' me Elektra Mycenas. Elektra was born in 1824. I was paranoid that year, 'cause of the revolution. Darius agreed with me. So we started killing m'other identities, created new one. Only thing saved me is I never get out of training." Aidan slid into Greek without noticing it, muttering, "So sick of fighting ever'body else, m'self. So tired of it."

Methos leaned over and laid a hand across her mouth, hoping she'd hush and fall asleep. To his surprise, he became very glad he was facing her and not the others. Aidan nipped his fingers, then began exploring them with her tongue, delicate little licks and darting probes that were incredibly arousing. It took longer than he liked before he could bring himself to remove his hand, and at that he was grateful his pants were loose. He spoke softly to her in Greek for awhile which the others didn't understand; eventually she fell asleep.

Joe watched the body language with a fair bit of interest in the meantime. _I may not have to play matchmaker with those two. Damn, she really gets to him._ Out loud, he finally asked, "So how much of it was luck? Was she really being stupid?"

Methos sighed, "That's the bad thing, Joe. She didn't necessarily do anything wrong and what saved her was not particularly luck. The bastard thought Edana was two hundred because of careful preparation on her part, and because she didn't give anything away when he was stalking. He lost to her because she always trains against larger, stronger, meaner partners. The only thing she really did wrong, and all of us did it, was not checking her car on a regular basis once we knew he had gotten in. And even then we thought he would challenge."

Connor shrugged. "Even the Kurgan issued challenges, Adam. Even Slan. I think this one would have tried to take her on Holy Ground if she had run."

Joe nodded. "Hell, even Peter Canis warned you, Duncan, and he tried to hunt you with those damn dogs of his."

"Did you forget to tell me about one, Duncan?" When his cousin stayed quiet, Connor continued, "But she was still lucky. That crossbow bolt could have given him her head if he had moved her into position sooner."

Duncan shook his head. "I've recovered from a broken back before, I think we all have." He looked around at Methos and Connor, seeing nods. "Will a severed spinal cord heal?"

Adam nodded. "Oh, yes, but it's more painful than anything else we can survive. Even regrowing an arm doesn't hurt as much, just longer."

The other three men stared at him. "You can do that?" Joe asked.

At the same time Duncan commented, "But we don't recover from that."

Methos just gave him that irritating, superior look. "Have you tried?"

"No, idiot, or I'd know. But St. Cloud didn't recover from it, he had an arm hook when I took his head."

"I did it once, Highlander. It simply takes a while. Considering what easy prey you are for another immortal during the process, you can see why it isn't widely known. Most of us who get hurt that badly don't manage to get away from the fight. Even then, it's hard to survive long enough after to find out."

Connor asked sardonically, "So how did you make it?"

Methos pointed to the sleeping woman. "Edana protected me for eighteen months. After she took the bastard's head."

Joe stood up and regretfully said, "I need to get back to the bar. I'll call and check on things later. Tell Aidan not to worry about making it in to work until next Tuesday. I know she wanted Saturday off, and I'm not sure when she'll be well or available before then, so...." He glared at Duncan and Methos. "But call me if you all need something, all right?"

Duncan grinned. "We'll call, I promise. Thanks, Joe. For everything."

"We'll guard her in shifts for a day or two while she heals. In between, we can run errands and catch up on news." Connor shrugged. "I knew she'd get us to unload her belongings somehow."

* * * *

Methos walked in and asked, "So when are the movers getting here? They said nine originally."

Connor shrugged. "Did you ever really believe that? I know they aren't that efficient in Paris."

"Of course not; I threw six hours on automatically, but it's after five now. What's the latest version?"

Aidan snarled and began pacing, forcing herself to get used to movement again. The last day and a half had been among the longest of her long life. Immortals didn't have to get used to incapacity and even with the painkillers Joe had provided, the day had been endless. The night had been worse; as nerves searched out the correct connections, the pain came and went at shorter intervals.

Methos had finally made her take four of the pills at once, washing them down with vodka. She couldn't argue with the logic; muscle spasms from pain undid her healing far worse than being deeply unconscious would. Gods, there were so few immortals she'd have trusted enough to go under like that....

"Now the moving company says they don't know where their truckers are; it may be tomorrow. Something about the train was delayed, slowing up the delivery, and they apologize. I think they just don't want to pay their drivers time-and-a-half for late night work. May their Alabama cargoes end up in Alaska, and their Ohio loads migrate to Ontario and reappear under French manifests!"

Duncan stepped neatly into her path and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her hands to her sides. "Aidan, if you're still getting phantom pain, fretting yourself is not going to help. Forget it; tomorrow is tomorrow. They have your cell phone number, right?" When she reluctantly agreed, he continued, "Look, we can work until sunset and then go drive out to the coast. You haven't been out there since you hit town. We all have cabin fever."

Methos pointed out, "Besides, Murphy's law being what it is, if we leave early the trailer will turn up and they'll try to charge you for a second delivery."

Connor smiled cynically. "Only once. Rachel is auditing this bill; Nash Antiques took care of the move. She'll explain the term 'service failure' to them and they'll owe us money before she's through."

Duncan casually commented, "Connor, didn't you say it was the most ghastly orange trailer you had ever seen?"

"Close enough. What I said was that it looked like a batch of hunter orange paint had an incestuous relationship with some chartreuse liqueur. Why?"

Duncan grinned. "Because they're here."

Aidan spun in his arms to look out the window. "Oh thank the Goddess. By the way, Duncan, I'll tell you right now, I know what you're getting for your birthday."

"And what would that be?"

"Some music that post-dates the 1800s." She laughed in his arms, acting more like her old self than she had in days. Duncan dipped her, swatted her on the ass while she was off balance, and then pulled her upright.

"Shall we go let them in?"

Over the next few hours, all of them had their muscles strained and patience tested as they moved boxes, furniture, and oriental carpets. After the movers finally left, leaving boxes scattered across the four floors of Aidan's house, she cleared off a chair and sat down, exhausted. "Gentlemen. I quit."

Connor laughed and handed her a glass. "Here, drink this."

She sighed and asked, "What is it?"

"Oh, a recipe from an old friend."

"Which one?"

"Sunda Kastagir."

Aidan's eyes widened. "I am not drinking 'boom-boom'. Good Gods, Connor, are you trying to kill me again?"

Connor laughed again, waggling his eyebrows to make her smile. "Grown woman like you scared of a little 'boom-boom'? No, it's iced coffee with allspice and cardamom. You know, the recipe he gave you that you got me hooked on?"

Aidan drank off half the glass immediately. "Remind me. Why didn't I marry you?"

"Because you don't sleep with immortals and I'm a sex fiend?"

She laughed at the lascivious expression he assumed. "How did you find the coffee maker?"

"Woman, when are you going to learn to notice passes? And Rachel came behind you and labeled it with florescent tape. She knew we'd want it."

Methos stole her glass and finished the coffee. "God, that is good. And she never notices passes, though she's perceptive enough the rest of the time!"

Aidan commented, "Remind me to send Rachel a thank-you gift, then. And Adam, if you're going to steal something, refill it. Oh, Gods, did I say that?"

Connor smiled. "When's the last time I stole a woman?"

Methos retorted, "Get in line, MacLeod."

Duncan scooped Aidan up and headed for the elevator while the other two were arguing. If she hadn't been laughing so hard, as he told her later, they might have made it.

* * * *

Too many of Aidan's belongings lay scattered across the house for any of them to really want to leave the place untenanted just yet and, after sleeping late, no one was tired. Aidan finally pulled Connor aside and requested, "Could you and Duncan make a food run? And take your time?"

"We have some talking to do, yes. Do you need time away from Duncan, or time to talk to Adam?" Connor studied her with that almost impersonal look he gave problems, which made her thoroughly nervous.

"An apology to offer. And I know this problem has played hell with you two catching up on family news. Would you mind?"

"Problem?" Connor gave Aidan an only mildly disbelieving look that meant he thought she was full of it, his eyes gold in the halogen lights. "That might cover it. Come over here and talk to me, sister."

Duncan glanced over from unpacking a box of CD's and decided to stay out of this one. The way Connor had his hands in his pockets, his torso leaned slightly toward Aidan as she very casually settled herself against a counter, arms folded across her chest and chin lowered, not looking at Connor -- whatever they were discussing, it was extremely private.

Connor waited until he knew she wasn't going to say anything, then he sighed and began. "Ignore the fact that I've made passes at you off and on for ten years. Both of us know that after your first 'no' none of them were serious."

"I know," she said quietly. _Well, they were and they weren't, brother. You're too strong to bother with coercion of any kind._

"I never thought you were a coward. I'm changing my mind." Her head snapped up and Aidan finally met his eyes. "Heh. I thought that would get your attention. How long have we known each other, Aidan?"

"A bit under ten years. Why?" Aidan kept her head up, and didn't try to mask her face. Connor had decided they were going to talk and that he was going to see her reactions. In this mood, he would make sure he did, one way or another. The man had no compunctions about low blows.

"I've seen you go after lovers before and always mortal. I've never asked how much older you are. You're at least five hundred years old, so I know you've done this for a while. Granted, you haven't gone on a serious date since Danielle, but all of us go through these cycles.

"Yesterday, with Adam. I've seen that reaction out of him before, in Boston, and I know he wants you. You want him. Fine, you're both old enough, even by our standards. But both of you work so hard at not being lovers.... Quit it. Take him to bed, or I kill you both and lock you in a room until you sort this out."

She stared at him, then started laughing. Aidan finally doubled over, chest on thighs, propped against the counter and guffawing until she started coughing for lack of air. Connor waited patiently until she could hear him again. "I mean it. Find the boxes for the towels and the bed, because you don't have a ride back to Duncan's, either of you. We'll be back with dinner for you two."

The immortal woman glanced up, tears still running down her face from the laughter, and choked out, "Gods, Duncan's couch isn't that bad that you need to throw us out of the bed! And don't push so hard, brother."

Connor commented. "Find the boxes, Aidan, or it'll be a long night."

Aidan met his eyes, laughter trailing off as she let her true feelings surface. The uncertainty on her face nearly broke Connor's heart. "Are you so sure he wants me? I've said 'no' for so long...."

"Idiot. Yes, he wants you. I know that look. You're being a fool, sister."

Finally she managed to straighten up and walked the necessary step forward to place her hands into his. "Connor. Give me a couple days. I swear, I'll resolve it Friday night."

Connor tightened his hands over hers. "Why then?"

"Midsummer's Eve is a time for love and valor." She drew a deep breath, then said, "And this will take both."

"I'll have your oath on it, Aidan." Connor held her by her hands, her eyes, and her honor.

"By my name, Connor, by my faith in my Lady, and by my breath, you have my word. I will resolve this Midsummer's Eve. Will you help me keep my word, brother?"

Connor pulled her into a crushing bearhug. "Aye, sister, of course I will. What do you need?"

"Distract Duncan that night? And help me set this place up first? Please?" She tightened her arms until his ribs creaked and her muscles protested.

"Done. But first we get some dinner. Do I still need to take Duncan or do we get pizza?"

"Pizza, I think. We'll get more done that way."

* * * *

Duncan woke and stretched, long and luxuriously. He knew from the sunlight that it was well past noon. They had all been unpacking for the last day and a half, staying up until two getting the last boxes unpacked and items arranged last night. If Aidan and Rachel hadn't been so meticulous about the packing and labeling, they could never have done it. But she was in and settled with only some last minute work still to be done, such as linens to be washed and those chimney columns she wasn't discussing yet.

"My God, he stirs." Connor's sarcasm dripped off Duncan without obvious effect as the taller Scot stretched again and yawned.

Duncan propped himself up on one elbow, and ran a hand across his face, feeling stubble. Both Methos and Aidan had obviously gotten up a good while earlier; the sheets were too cool. "When did you get up? Ten minutes ago?"

"No, the coffee woke me a good hour ago. Aidan left it, along with a note that she was stealing my car and would we meet her at her place around seven? Adam cursed a blue streak, but he seems to have gotten over it."

Duncan looked around and saw Methos working in the kitchen. "Oh, God, Connor, don't tell me you're letting him cook."

Connor shrugged, a small smile on his face. "Well, you weren't awake, and you always complain if I fix breakfast."

Methos glanced up from the skillet and replied, "If he always offers you oatmeal and black coffee, both burned, I can see why you learned to cook, Duncan."

Duncan laughed. "That's it exactly. Do I have time for a shower first?"

"No, the omelet's almost ready. Connor, grab the orange juice."

All three of them piled into the food without a word, then sat back and sighed. Methos finally remarked, "Do you know, I've almost forgotten how to fill a day without Aidan's list in front of me? How lazy shall we be?"

Connor laughed. "How about that drive to the coast you mentioned the other day, Duncan?"

"You mean there was nothing on the note about 'Would you please...?' " Duncan laughed, too. "I love the woman dearly, but she's better at keeping me busy than Amanda is!"

Connor shrugged. "Aidan may call later, but she had errands to run and some plans for tonight since it's Midsummer's Eve."

"Connor, do you ever wonder what it must be like to be old enough to consider Christianity a new religion?"

"I didn't know Aidan was that old, but I knew she didn't worship Christ. Holy Ground is Holy Ground, and she's a good one. Does the rest really matter, Duncan?"

"No. It doesn't. So, the coast sounds good to me. My intern isn't expecting me to take back over until Monday; let's goof off today."

Connor casually offered, "Adam, you cooked, we'll clean up. Leave some hot water, all right?"

Methos cheerfully responded, "So long as you don't rinse the dishes while I'm in there."

After he was in the bathroom and the sound of water could be heard in the kitchen, Connor informed Duncan, "We'll be dropping him at Aidan's place tonight and collecting my car. She'll call tomorrow sometime when they're fit for company."

Duncan kept scouring the skillet as he thought about the way his cousin had phrased that. "I take it Adam doesn't know this?"

Connor flashed a smile, gold-brown eyes lighting up. "No, he doesn't."

"Does Aidan?"

"Of course. She asked me to help. She really is running errands in my car."

Duncan stacked the skillet to be rinsed and went to work on the plates. "Did she finally decide to break that rule of hers, then?

"I think she's been considering it for a while; I twisted her arm to speed it up. I want to see her happy again. Danielle's death broke something in her, and it's long past time she healed."

"Danielle?" Duncan twisted around to look at Connor. "She never mentioned that name. What happened?"

"Do you remember that Russian ballerina I fell in love with?"

"Of course I do, that was the worst break-up fight I've heard in four hundred years. We went through half a case of whiskey over that one."

"Aidan and Dani made that look like a Veteran's Day parade, Duncan. She hasn't dated since, that I know of." Connor settled back in his chair, sipping at the orange juice. "That tapestry I sent you for Christmas a few years ago was Dani's work. If she hadn't died of AIDS, Dani would be a very successful artist -- and Aidan would still be in New York."

"D. St. Vir was a woman? And Aidan's lover?"

Connor nodded. "And I introduced them to each other at one of my Christmas parties. Sometime, cousin, we need to get a large bottle of whiskey and worm the story out of Aidan. She needs to tell it, and I never really finished mourning Dani myself."

"Maybe at your Christmas party this year, after the guests have gone home."

Connor laughed. "If you aren't in Paris again."

"So, do we tell Adam what we're doing or just pack a bag for him?"

"Heh-heh. Where's the fun if we tell him? Come on, let's get the bag out before he comes out of the shower. So where are we driving to? Aidan's not expecting him before seven."

* * * *

They pulled up in front of Aidan's house and Duncan said, "Come on, Adam, you always say you like walking, walk up the stairs."

"MacLeod, I'm the one who woke up first this morning, and you've both tried to show me every bit of coastline. Give me a better reason."

Connor shrugged. "Because if you don't we'll let you explain to Aidan why you'd rather sit in the car than eat her cooking."

Methos sat up and got out of the car. "Now that is a good reason. Why didn't you mention dinner sooner, Connor?"

"Because you keep harassing me about those ten pounds that you weren't in Boston to be paid."

"Of course I do. You never tried to get in touch with me to pay them."

In the elevator, Connor looked at Duncan. "You forgot the bag."

"Me? How was that my job? You promised Aidan, not me." Duncan spread his hands, disclaiming any responsibility.

Both of them looked at Methos. "Go on up, we'll go get this and be there."

Methos raised an eyebrow. "Far be it from me to keep you from fulfilling a promise to her. See you upstairs."

Duncan got the bag out of the trunk and tossed it into the office on the first floor. Locking the door behind them as they went back out to the car, Connor asked, "Have you seen the new Jackie Chan movie yet?"

Methos turned to the window when he heard the T-bird start up. "Either they left the bag at Duncan's or this is going to be an interesting meal."

Aidan glanced over, still shaking up the salad dressing. "What is it?"

"Were you feeding the MacLeods?"

"No. Just you. Do you mind?"

Methos turned around and studied her for a second. Even for a Midsummer's feast, he hadn't expected her to dress quite so well. No wonder Duncan had given him the silk shirt today, claiming it was an 'un-birthday' present.

Aidan's hair spilled down her back in a long dark brown fall, restrained only with a deep green ribbon that matched the calf-length skirt and held most of the locks out of her eyes. The sleeveless peach silk tunic top was belted in with silver links which matched her oak leaf. When he noticed she was barefoot under the skirt, he couldn't help smiling.

"I never mind your company. But why do I feel like I've been set up?"

Aidan laughed. "Because you were. I think Connor's up to something about the money he owes you and I wanted your company to myself tonight."

"A fate worse than death, hmm?"

"Behave, wretch, or I'll invite Joe over instead. Kick your shoes off and get comfortable." Aidan began to serve up the salad, and they both set dinner out on the table.

"Shall I put some music on?"

Methos had already turned to set up the stereo when she replied, "No, I already loaded the CDs. Just hit play if you would. Wine or beer?"

"Cook's choice, of course." He moved to the stereo and followed her instructions. For once, she hadn't left the cases out to indicate what was ready. The opening notes of an Enigma song spilled out of the speakers in the corners of the room.

Both of them talked over dinner, discussing old friends and older places, deliberately keeping the conversation light. Methos watched her throughout the meal, wondering what idea or decision had taken up residence in the complex mind across the table from him. She seemed more at peace than he had seen her since he arrived in Seacouver, and it was more than being done with the stalker.

When they had finished eating and stacked the dishes into the dishwasher, Aidan asked, "Do you mind if we hold off on dessert?"

"Not at all. What did you want to do tonight?" Hazel eyes watched her, waiting for an answer.

"Come sit down. I have a surprise for you."

He moved obediently to the couch and sat down in the middle. Aidan laughed softly and asked, "Do you trust me?"

Methos smiled despite himself. "Are we discussing your cooking or your sense of humor?"

"Will you close your eyes for a few minutes while I finish preparing your surprise, then?"

He cocked his head sideways, seeing that she was both serious and a bit nervous. "Of course."

Methos listened over and around the music as Aidan moved around the room. He could hear the rustle of cloth, and the chime of glass against metal from the corner which held her bed, then a soft clatter of metal on metal. A few minutes later he heard the sound of glass on wood, and the almost soundless rustle of moving silk from the opposite side of the house, near the shower and tub.

As she moved around, Methos could almost feel it when the lights went out one by one. Maybe he had been watching the light through his eyelids, or feeling it across his skin, but he could sense it. Closer by, he heard Aidan strike a match and smelled first sulfur, then sandalwood and jasmine. After a moment, he heard her moving near the stereo and the music changed from Irish dulcimer to the opening track off _Red Shoe Diaries_. At last she moved back to the couch, close enough he could smell the scent he always associated with her: oranges and roses and rosemary.

It felt odd to be sitting there in the darkness of his eyelids, waiting for her to let him look around. With anyone else, he would think this was seduction. With her it could be almost anything, including ritual magic that she wanted him to see and feel, but there was an odd anticipation to this night, to the music she had programmed. As the track finished, the songs jumped CDs to Annie Lennox's gloriously distinctive voice.

The cushions sagged under him as she settled onto the couch, one leg on either side of him so that she was straddling him but he wasn't supporting any of her weight. Very softly she said, "You can open your eyes now."

Candles lit the room, from votives on shelves and around the tub, from the wrought iron and glass rack suspended above and behind her bed. Incense burned on the table to their right, far enough away to be pleasant rather than cloying. Aidan watched him, grey eyes huge at such a short distance; her expression was solemn and slightly tense and a bit elated all at once. Her arms rested on the back of the couch, just to either side of him. Methos realized in surprise that she had discarded the skirt and wore only the tunic and her necklace that he could tell.

Not for the first time in dealing with women, Methos found himself speechless. Never in two and a half millennia had Edana been a tease, which meant....

Finally he managed to say, "Are you sure about this?"

She never broke eye contact as she asked, "Do you want this? I've put you off for so long, I couldn't blame you if you didn't--"

Methos lifted one hand and put a finger across her lips to stop that line of thought. Under his hand, her lips curved into a smile and she tilted her head back slightly to get to the tip of his finger. This time he knew that the delicate nips and darting, flickering licks were not a result of painkillers. He closed his eyes again for a second, gathering his will. "Love, are you sure? I don't think I can ask again if you...."

Edana leaned forward and very lightly brushed his lips with her own. Even through his silk shirt, Methos felt her hair swing across his chest and belly. Without settling herself against him, she leaned further in, warm breath blowing over the sensitive skin of his earlobe, and whispered, "Yes, I'm sure. Anything you want, Methos, as much as you want."

Instinctively he moved his head back to give her better access to his ear and throat. At the same time, Methos wrapped his hands around her hips, feeling her shiver under his fingers, and pulled her down onto his lap, forward against his chest. Finally he ran his hands up her back, over the silk of her tunic and into the silk of her hair. "No, anything we want."

Methos pulled her mouth against his and licked along the outside, exploring and teasing simultaneously. Edana's lips tasted of wine, and strawberries. As he finally deepened the kiss, her hair coiled around his hands and arms; it smelled of oranges and rosemary. Strong legs wrapped around his hips as she settled herself more comfortably and he could feel her body against him, separated only by the two layers of silk. Both of them shivered at that contact and chuckled to feel the other's response.

She broke away from his mouth and began trailing kisses and nips along his jaw, then murmured, "I like the shirt, did I tell you that earlier?" Deliberately, she rubbed her chest against him like a cat nuzzling just as she licked behind the jaw, under the ear. Methos groaned at the combination and bit along her collarbone, hands stroking along her back, until she whimpered as well and arched back to give him better access.

"Edana, what are we doing on a narrow couch?" His hands kept moving along her ribs up onto the shoulders and back down the inside of her arms, deliberately skirting some of the more erotic points.

"Enjoying ourselves? Oh, Goddess, you are a dreadful...." Her voice trailed off as he pulled her back against his mouth again, this time nibbling along her lips, then soothing the bites with his tongue.

"I do not tease. Well, not forever, anyway," he muttered when they came back up from the kiss.

"Oh, Gods, I hope not. And we're on the couch because if you were going to turn me down, I didn't want it to be on my bed." She moved back just enough to run her nails up his ribs, making him gasp.

"Turn you down? You talk too much. Come to bed."

She caught her breath as his hands wrapped around her arms to push her off the couch. At this moment, even that casual a touch was arousing. Somehow, they made it to her bed and she smiled at the look on his face. "Well, I thought you'd appreciate it."

"Who else would have put rose petals under the sheets for me?" He almost purred as Aidan began unbuttoning his shirt, sliding one hand under the fabric to hold each new button up as she got to it, fingers pressing almost randomly against chest and belly muscles. Somehow she managed to tease all the way down to the waistband, only to pull the shirt out and stop teasing him which was almost worse. She tossed the silk over the blanket chest, only to find her hands trembling as she moved on to his waistband.

Methos cupped her chin with one large hand and kissed her again and again until she stopped shaking. Somehow he got his pants unfastened without ever releasing her mouth, although he did end up needing both hands. Edana reached out and pushed them down, and his boxers with them, and he stepped out of the clothes. She found herself memorizing the way he looked. Countless times over the centuries, she'd seen him in and out of clothes, enjoyed the sight of him naked and aroused almost as often -- but never for her, because of her.

Knowing that she'd had longer to work into a state of nerves than he had, Methos let her look her fill to give her a chance to gather her thoughts and some self-possession. After a while he smiled and said, "You do realize you're overdressed?"

Edana gazed at him, all solemn mischief, and said, "Oh, all right, here." Gravely she removed and handed him the hair ribbon and the oak leaf necklace. Dropping them on the bedside table, Methos placed his hands on her thighs and slowly skimmed the tunic off over head. The feel of his hands sliding silk over her waist and breasts pulled a shuddering sigh out of her and he dropped the tunic over his shirt. No, she hadn't been wearing anything else. Not her waist chain, not so much as a single hide-out dagger. Unable to resist, he buried his hands in her hair, wrapping it around his wrists, and pulled her in for another kiss.

When she came up for air again, Methos had maneuvered her onto the bed and gave her that half-smile she knew so well as he pushed gently to lay her down on her stomach. Edana raised one eyebrow at him, lips quirked with thoughts she wouldn't say, knowing he'd read them easily enough. He just laughed and slapped her lightly on the ass, then promptly kissed the nape of her neck and laughed again as she shivered under his lips.

"I'll get to the other side soon enough. Learn some patience, woman. I've waited this long for you." Scooping her hair out of the way, Methos teased her, playing across back and shoulders and neck. Nip and then kiss, tracing lines with fingernails, then licking just next to them, he drove her half mad. When Edana started to turn over, he pressed down on her shoulder with one hand.

"Shh. Trust me."

"That's a cruel thing to do, Methos," Edana muttered, but she settled back against the bed, smelling rose petals, and a bit of incense, and his arousal.

"Hush and enjoy, just don't help yet. I've wanted you for too long." When she started to protest, he touched a finger to her mouth. "Hush, just put your hands... here." He moved her hands next to her thighs, palms up, and bent to place a kiss in the center of each palm. "Now stay put. I'll be right back. Move and I'll have to come up with something drastic to do."

Now Edana lay still, eyes closed in the flickering candlelight as he moved around, but it was a much shorter wait than Methos had had. She heard him set a glass on the bedside table, then Methos settled himself on hands and knees over her body and began to arouse her in earnest, playing fingers and mouth across hot spots she hadn't known she had. It had never occurred to her that the inside of her wrist was so sensitive, that a finger run along the hairs at the very nape of her neck could make her twist and whimper. Deliberately, he pressed himself against her, legs intertwined with hers, his erection nestled between her buttocks, and bit at her neck and shoulder.

Methos raised an eyebrow at the response that got, and went to work in earnest, hearing her moan under him, her head arching back against his shoulder as she tried to turn under him. Almost casually, he set his elbows on either side of her arms and moved to the other side of her throat. Again and again he nipped sharply enough to bruise then soothed with lips and tongue, blowing warm air over the marks as she healed immediately. When she continued to writhe, wanting her hands on him, her mouth, he chuckled and pressed her arms back against the bed. With his full weight on her, he had all the advantages. "Oh, no, you said whatever I want. For now, lie still. I'm not done yet."

"Methos...." Aidan knew she was begging, that her voice was pleading, and didn't care. As well she didn't, because he had no intention of stopping. He moved down her back, catching her at each of the chakra points, feeling her climb toward orgasm just from the teasing. He lingered for a while at the base of her spine, just above the curve of her buttocks, enjoying smooth skin and the smell of aroused female.

He licked her just where the thigh ended and the ass began, so lightly that she almost didn't feel it, and began to rub out her feet. Just as she started to relax slightly, sliding away from the edge of coming, he nipped just under the anklebone and Aidan shuddered. Under the curve of her calf, behind the knee, just at the rise of her hamstring -- everywhere Methos heated her skin until she shivered at the touch of his fingers, at the barest breath across her skin. Some of the Gaelic phrases she cried out were so old he couldn't remember what they meant, but her tone spoke of love, desire, and longing.

Not until Methos pulled gently on one hip did she turn over, though. Aidan immediately reached for him and he caught her hands in one of his. He leaned over and kissed her, feeding her wine from his mouth. Under his urging, she pressed her hands back behind her head as Methos whispered, "Not yet. Trust me."

"What do you mean not yet?" Aidan let her frustration rise into her voice.

Methos cupped a hand between her legs, feeling the heat rising off her. "You can't tell me you're not enjoying this. Trust me a bit longer, love."

She moaned, hips arching to press against his fingers, and finally said, "Gods, you're a tease. All right, I'll wait."

"Besides, if you try to help, I'll stop." He smiled wickedly at the strangled moan that elicited from her. What Methos would never admit was that he didn't want her helping because right now he didn't trust his own control against her hands and mouth. Deliberately he went after the insides of her legs, not quite scratching, then kissing the sensitive skin just along the inside of the knee.

Kneeling between Edana's legs, he paused for a moment to enjoy the sight she made in the candlelight. Long hair streamed across the pillows, one strand falling onto her shoulder and arm. With her arms back, hands under the pillow, her breasts stood up, nipples tightened and waiting for him. What he loved most was the expression on her face as she gave herself over to pleasure, head thrown back and throat exposed to him. From another immortal, that bespoke an incredible amount of trust.

Automatically his hands kept stroking along her thighs, scratching lightly, occasionally applying pressure to arouse her further. When Methos leaned forward, completely bypassing the center of her heat, Aidan whimpered again, a sound which turned to a gasp as he bit down just over her hipbone. Strong, long-fingered hands held her in place as he devoured her belly and ribs with his mouth, chest pinning her legs down.

He continued to move up her body and Aidan nearly lifted him off the bed when Methos licked along the underside of first one breast then the other. The scent of crushed roses mingled with the beeswax from the candles and the tang of sex, enveloping both of them as she wrapped her legs around him. When he finally closed his mouth around her nipples, her words became incoherent except for his name. The feel of his hardness pressed against her mons and belly drove Aidan even closer to the edge, and she arched her back, pressing up against him. Deliberately Methos pulled away from her, then caught her mouth with his own as she cried out her protest.

Now he finally unleashed his own hunger, kissing her as if he expected the world to end any second and didn't want to miss any of her. His hands wrapped over hers under the pillow as her hips arched off the bed, begging for him as her mouth couldn't. Legs still twined around his, Aidan refused to let him go. She pulled her hands free, running nails down his back, along his sides, whimpering into his mouth. With one hand she went straight for that sensitive spot at the base of the spine; with the other she caught and teased one of his nipples.

Groaning against her mouth, Methos drew back and then began to slide into her. He eased into her with the last of his control, drawing out the first penetration both to be sure she was ready and because he wanted to savor this. Somehow, he managed to move into that welcoming heat little by little, all too aware that neither of them was going to last long. Her silky warmth clenched around him, quivering as she tried to hold the orgasm off for just a moment longer.

As he pressed all the way home, Methos felt her pleasure explode around him. Aidan surged up against him, hips bucking in a figure eight as she tightened around him, arms and legs twined around him. He thrust forward once, twice, then his lover's ecstasy dragged him over the edge with her. With his last breath he invoked her name as he came.

Methos recovered first, catching his breath and easing his weight onto his elbows. Amused, he realized she had barely noticed. From the unfocused eyes and the occasional twitch of internal muscles, she was still coming back down. Moving carefully so as not to withdraw from her, he pulled Edana over so that they ended up on their sides, her head on his bottom arm. Her free hand stroked idly across his ribs and back without any direction from her mind, making him smile and purr.

A measureless time later, while the candlelight still flickered across their tangled bodies, Aidan finally stirred. She moved forward far enough to kiss Methos just under the collarbone, then tilted her head up and brushed her lips against his. He pulled her in against his chest, arms tightening protectively around her as he whispered, "Thank you. Are you still convinced I'm a tease?"

Aidan chuckled softly against him and replied, "Is this where I ask if I have to wait until morning to respect you, or can I admit to it now? Remind me not to tell Duncan he was right, by the way."

"Oh, you can wait until morning. What was Duncan right about?" He kept the words light, but his hands stroked continuously and soothingly down her back.

"He told me I was out of my mind because I was denying myself lovers as skilled as I was. Sweet Goddess, what an understatement. I'm going to die a happy woman and come back for more." Aidan snuggled in against him and yawned widely. "Sorry about that. It's not the company."

"What, did I manage to put you to sleep?" Amusement tinged his voice, and drowsy pleasure.

Aidan yawned again, and murmured, "I think so, at least for a little while. Shall I make it up to you later?"

"I haven't completely lost my mind. Feel free, pounce whenever you like. I give myself over to your hands completely, and my Gods, what was that last thing you did with your hips?"

"Oh, something they trained into me that time in Rome." Aidan used her toes and then a hand to pull the sheet up over them without dislodging him from inside her. "Learning belly dancing refined it a bit more. Hopefully you liked it?"

Methos kissed the top of her head. "No, I loved it. Sleep, Edana, we'll talk when we wake up."

"Methos? Is anything wrong?" Something in his phrasing caught her attention and Aidan tried to force herself to wake up.

Still kneading her back, Methos whispered, "Hush, love, nothing's wrong, I'm just curious about why you finally changed your mind. It's all right, go to sleep."

"Oh. Duncan tried logic, Joe used literature, and Connor threatened me. Why have you put up with me being an idiot for two thousand years?" She sounded plaintive and a bit more awake.

"Connor threatened you?" Methos hovered between amused and irritated. "With what?"

"He was going to kill both of us and lock us in a room with a bed. If we're both awake, why are we talking?" Lazily she tightened internal muscles, making him gasp.

"Because..." and he positioned fingers to tickle her, "...I want to know what happened. Please. I would love a second bout but I can't think straight when you do that."

"You do other things straight when I do that," she purred. His hands moved and she hastily said, "I'll behave! Gods, that's cruel!"

"I'll give you cruel. Talk, or else."

"Or else what?"

"Do you really want to find out?"

Aidan sighed, exasperated, and gave in. "Methos, so many of you have argued with me about this that I've wondered for a long time if I was right. I'm stubborn enough that I kept thinking it was right for me, if no one else. But I've been miserable these last three centuries, knowing Ramirez was dead and wondering if you were. Then Duncan and Joe started seriously arguing it with me, trying to make me see their point of view."

Ruefully, she pointed out, "Sorry, mo cridhe, but you usually began with 'Are you out of your mind?' and ended up arguing about the odds of my getting to the Gathering. Duncan and Joe went straight to the drawbacks for me."

"Oh? Which ones? And my arguments were a bit more elaborate than that." Good, he hadn't taken offense.

"Duncan pointed out that lovers who don't understand you have a lot harder time being lovers; then he said, besides, there's a certain skill level that comes with practice. Sweet Lady, did it ever!" Aidan poked him in the ribs as he muffled his laughter. "Yes, that's a compliment. But he's right, it's so nice to be able to make sarcastic comments in 'lost' languages, or to walk with someone who doesn't ask why I have a dagger down my back or in my boots."

Methos commented very softly, "Yes, I know. A lover who doesn't ask why you're wearing a long coat in summer or why you don't like turtlenecks, one who never asks you why you have a sword under the bed or when are you going to modernize up to waterbeds?"

Aidan snorted derisively. "Oh, Gods, what a sword fight would do to a waterbed mattress -- or a quickening!"

Both of them sighed as Methos finally slid out of her. Aidan murmured, "I always hate that."

"Why? Not that I'm arguing." Methos rearranged them both slightly so that she wound up sprawled half over him, her cheek on his shoulder.

"After being one creature.... It's not orgasm that's the _petit mort_ of sex, it's that separation." She snuggled in against him, taking comfort from the familiar body which had surprised her so gloriously earlier. "And Joe and Connor both said I was being a coward, and I had trouble arguing."

That startled Methos. "You came to a logical conclusion and stuck to it even when it hurt you, which seemed to be most of the time. How is that cowardice?"

"Because I was using future pain as a premise for the logic, and badly at that. Hells, even before tonight, I loved you too much to fight you in the Gathering. I'd have given you my head first. I never looked at the implications of that."

"Edana... you were.... I knew you loved me; I was never sure you were in love with me." The softness of his voice disarmed Aidan completely. She raised up on one elbow to look at him.

"I've been in love with you very nearly my entire life, Methos. I never told you because--" Somehow, despite the position she shrugged. Her normally expressive face twisted as she was torn between her habitual concealment and a desire to let him read her feelings. "First you were my teacher, and neither of us would abuse that bond. Then neither you nor Ramirez would ever discuss what would happen if it came down to two of us at the Gathering, and I knew what kind of pain it would be to have to kill one of you. I wanted you, but I couldn't be sure how much I was willing to give, and I have always loathed being a tease."

Methos reached up and placed one hand on her cheek. "Edana, your honesty has been one of the few constants I've had. I missed you these last centuries, very badly. But... you'd give me your head?"

Aidan closed her eyes; Methos saw love and regret cross her face. "If it came to that? Yes. I will not kill you. I will not be the death of those I love, unless it's for mercy. With immortals, short of a Dark Quickening, it isn't. Which means you and Duncan, Connor and some of my students, have nothing to fear from me outside a salle. Oh, I might kill one of you, if driven to it, but I'd simply vanish before you came back to life. Do we have to talk about this?"

"No, it can all wait. How long since you've had a well-trained bath attendant? Shall I scrub your back and the rest of you?"

That got a smile out of her. "Oh, it's been ages since I've had an offer so good. Yes, please, I'd like that."

Methos watched her, wondering why her eyes were still closed. _Unless the only way she can let me see what she's thinking is not to watch my reactions...._ Well, the advantage to being immortal was that not all of this had to be discussed tonight. Or even this year, for that matter. Reaching up, he pulled her in for one more kiss.

While Methos ran the bath for them and set out towels, Aidan moved around the room, snuffing candles that weren't over the bed or by the tub and loading the stereo with Dead Can Dance albums. To her pleased surprise, he had been quite serious. In the shower, not an inch of her body was she allowed to do for herself, although he did let her scrub his back finally. When they crawled into the tub to soak, Methos handed her in ceremoniously, then retrieved his wine before getting in himself.

"I could get thrown out of the union for letting you help with that shower, you realize," he commented as he settled back against the side of the tub.

"Oh, hush, or I'll think you're getting senile. Union indeed! By the way, I have a question for you." Aidan snuggled contentedly into his lap in the water and fed him a sip of the wine.

"Am I going to hate it as much as you hated mine?" He nuzzled her hair, almost purring from the pleasure of the hot water and the feel of her body on his.

"Possibly. I hope not. However," and she deliberately rolled her hips against him while nipping delicately at one earlobe, "what are you going to do about Duncan."

Methos had arched back to let her get to his ear and throat. That question brought him back down to earth very quickly. "What do you mean? Do what about him?"

"Ah, ah, you don't fool me. I know you're in love with him, I was just wondering if you were going to drag him into bed one of these years."

"Are you?"

Aidan smiled mischievously. "Which? In love with him, or hoping to get him in bed some day?"

Methos tilted his head to one side, eyebrow raised and mockingly replied, "Yes."

"Almost and yes, Gods help me, and before you ask, no, that isn't why I went to bed with you."

"Gods, no, Edana, I know you better than that. Well, then, I have hopes but haven't noticed a way to pull it off yet. Why?"

Aidan shrugged, and went back to nuzzling his throat, then murmured against an ear, "Because he loves you and from the body language I'd say he's been thinking about it himself. The story about Arslan and my other husbands aroused him, certainly. If you think he isn't interested, you've gone blind again."

Almost casually, he wrapped his hands around her upper arms and pushed her back so that he could see her face. "He wants me or he wants to share you? There's a slight difference, love."

"Both, Methos. He wants me, yes, but he wants you, too." She gave him a wry smile. "I've seen the way he's been curled around you in the mornings this last week and how casual he's gotten about touching you, or rubbing you down. How many mornings have you woken up with a nice proud bit of flesh pressed against you? His body knows what it wants and his mind is slowly catching up. Promise to think about it, hmm? Later, that is." Aidan ran one hand lightly down his chest, sliding into the water to stroke down his belly and wrap around his cock. When Methos gasped from pleasure and surprise, she moved over him and slowly slid down.

Pinning his hands against the side of the tub, she proceeded to tease him with delicate nips, subtle hip movements, and rippling contractions of internal muscles. Holding off her own pleasure to watch his, Aidan brought Methos to the edge and eased off again twice before she finally rocked them both over the brink. It was all they could do to dry off and make it from the tub to the bed again.

Curled against each other, the two immortals fell soundly asleep under the candlelight, relaxed and content. They woke twice more in the night to give and share pleasure, sleeping again after the first time. The second time both of them laughed to hear stomachs growling and went looking through the kitchen for a snack.

"By the way, Edana, what has been bothering you lately?"

Aidan passed him the ice cream and a bowl. "What? When? I assume you don't mean Stengel."

"Hardly. What's been keeping you up at night?"

"You have."

Methos smiled and commented, "Not tonight, love, the last several weeks."

Aidan spooned up a bite of the ice cream, stealing from his bowl rather than eat out of the carton. "That's what I said. You have."

Both of them ate in companionable silence while he thought about that and she declined to amplify on it. "When did Joe discuss books with you?"

"The night you hit town." She put the ice cream back in the freezer, shook her head and said, "It's indecently late or early, but are you still hungry?"

"Actually, no. Would you rather I drop the subject?"

Aidan walked over and settled herself onto his lap. "No. If you want to know, then yes, I'll answer. As best I can, anyway. You were keeping me awake, mo cridhe, or more accurately, my own indecision did. Do you know what Joe's first opinion of us was?"

"No." Gold-green eyes studied her curiously, noting that she had closed her eyes again, and relaxed her guard on her expressions. "What did he have to say that got this kind of result?"

"He said, and I quote, 'From the body language, I'd have to say you're in love with Methos. But you two don't act like lovers. Are you going to be all right sharing a bed with him and not doing anything?' He's an appallingly good friend. I wish Darius had known him." She sighed and settled more comfortably against Methos' chest.

"So do Duncan and I. They'd have gotten along splendidly. Aidan, why didn't you tell me it was sleeping with me that was keeping you awake?"

"What could I say, Methos? 'I want you, but I'm too scared.' 'You feel too good, I don't trust myself.' 'Will you respect me in the morning?' I didn't know what I felt, what I wanted -- what you felt, what you wanted. There was nothing but confusion and fear, and that damn premonition riding my shoulders...." Aidan tucked her head in under his chin, shaking, unable to get words out around the tightness in her throat.

"What were you frightened of? That I wouldn't love you, or that I would?" Methos felt her flinch at that question, but this needed to be ironed out now. From long experience he knew fears like this could strangle a relationship. A few months as Aidan's lover, no matter how pleasant or how long desired, did not match another several centuries of her friendship. Sex he could get; immortals he loved and trusted were few and far between.

"I had just found you again.... I think I was frightened that one way or another asking would destroy our friendship." Somewhere, she had opened her eyes again, but Aidan saw only candlelight and the shadows of her own worries. "And mortals are safer to love, in some ways. You know going into it that the relationship will be finite. Connor was right. I am a coward."

Methos shook her so hard her teeth rattled. "Do I have your attention, idiot woman?" Thoroughly startled, Aidan turned her head to meet his gaze as he continued, "That is entirely enough of that. Let's take this in order, shall we?"

He caught her jaw in one hand, making her look at him. The grip was just firm enough that she couldn't escape, although not bruising unless she tried to fight it. "One. I do not abandon friendships just because someone made a polite pass.

"Two. If you look at me in the morning and say this was solely to celebrate the Solstice, we are still going to be friends and I'm going to have a glorious set of memories. But I am not going to hate you for it, or desert you, or resent the fact that you've decided not to share your body with me.

"Three. Just for the record, if you and Duncan become lovers, I may be jealous that you managed to get him in bed, but I will not be jealous that you went to bed with him. I think you understand the distinction.

"Four. Loving mortals, knowing they are going to die and leave you alone again, is not the act of a coward. That takes more strength than most of us can muster. It's easy the first time when you haven't felt that pain before. Knowing what you're going into and doing it anyway for your love and theirs is courage, Edana, not cowardice.

"Now, if you're worried about whether you'll still consider me a friend, whether or not we're lovers, or that you'll get jealous of me taking other lovers -- that you'll have to deal with. But you've never been one for jealousy, I can't see you starting now. Gods, woman, you've gotten along better with some of my wives than I did! And you've never been one for unwilling lovers. Have you changed in the last three centuries?"

"No, I--" Aidan still shivered in his arms, feeling almost battered by his arguments, the fierceness in his voice.

"Fine. Then get over the idea that you would destroy our friendship if I decided I didn't want to be your lover. I know you; you'll take on pain yourself before you'll give it to a friend. You and Duncan are too much alike in that, both of you raised to take on responsibility for those you considered your clan and still doing it. You're more prone to guide, he to guard, but you both do it regardless of the cost to yourselves. I have been taking care of myself for a very long time, why don't you let me keep doing it and worry about yourself for once?"

With a long sigh, Aidan relaxed muscles she hadn't realized were tense, letting go of worries and fears and other phantasms. "Gods but I have missed you direly, teacher mine, lover mine. No one else argues sense into me like this."

"Give Joe another year or so and he will. The man reads people all too well, and he'll soon know exactly how that convoluted mind of yours works. He hits buttons better on instinct than most psychiatrists do on years of training. Shall we move this to the couch, love?"

"Gods, yes, I'm sorry, mo cridhe, I hadn't...." Aidan untangled herself from him, suddenly realizing just how uncomfortable he must have been in a chair with no arms to help support her weight. Methos just laughed and caught at her hand to keep her from moving too far away.

"It's all right, you know. It's not like we'll die of it," and hazel eyes encouraged her to smile. "Besides, I like the way you say that, love, always have."

"What, calling you my own? I'll remember that, although there are other names I doubt you'd object to." Aidan sank onto the couch and held out her arms to him. They adjusted themselves until they fit comfortably against each other and the couch. "Why did you wait so long to ask?"

Methos shrugged. "You're a grown woman, I thought I'd give you time to solve it yourself. You still call me teacher, but that's affection, not our relationship. By the time I realized you were fighting something you couldn't or wouldn't defeat, we had Stengel to worry about. This became a problem for another time. What do they say these days? I 'deprioritized' it. The things business books do to the language of Shakespeare should be illegal."

"M'chara, isn't he the one who said 'First thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers?' " Aidan smiled, amused and sleepy again.

" 'Consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds.' Emerson, I think."

"Ah. Smart ass." Her hands began to stroke against his back and neck, soothing and relaxing instead of arousing.

"Yes, but you seem to like my ass." Methos settled in more comfortably against her and asked, "Am I too heavy?"

"No, not at all. It's nice having someone there to make sure I don't fall off the planet." Aidan squirmed slightly to give him more room, then chuckled softly. "You know, there's a bed over there."

"Yes, but you seem more comfortable talking here. Besides, we'd have to get up. Was I wrong to let you work on it yourself?"

He sounded curious, not concerned. Aidan shrugged, knowing he'd feel it even if he couldn't see it. "No, I don't think so. I needed to do my own thinking on it."

"And Connor's threat?" Amusement and irony laced Methos' voice.

"Do you really think I couldn't have found a way out if I had wanted to?"

"What did you do? I notice neither of us took a blade through the heart."

"Promised him I'd resolve this with you tonight, last night, whatever. Oh, you have clean clothes down on the first floor; I'll get them for you in the morning."

"Edana? It is morning."

"The sun hasn't come up yet, therefore it isn't morning. Don't be technical or I'll quit rubbing your shoulders."

"Ah. It's night, definitely. How did you pull off the change of clothes?"

"I promised to try to drag you into bed and Connor promised to help me with details. Little things: having someplace to seduce you, loaning me a car to buy candles and roses, packing a bag for you...." She chuckled softly. "That man has done this sort of thing too often. He was telling me what I had forgotten."

Methos laughed soundlessly against her. "I believe it. I'm glad you decided the way you did, Edana. Still going to respect me in the morning?"

"Oh, I'll manage something. Shall I sing you to sleep again?" Her hands paused on his back, waiting for his answer.

"The sun hasn't risen yet. Are you really going to sing me to sleep on Midsummer's Eve, my lady druid?" Mischief tinted his voice as he breathed the words just under her ear, right over what he now knew to be a very sensitive spot.

Aidan gasped against him, and then muttered, "This couch is not wide enough for this. It really isn't."

"Have you tried?" Methos caught his breath in a sharp intake of air as she ran nails up the inside of his thighs.

"Yes. Come to bed, oh, insatiable one. I may have to..." She whimpered, losing her train of thought in what that too-talented mouth was doing, then managed to force out, "... warn Duncan about you. Oh, Gods, the floor's close."

"Yes." Methos rolled them both onto the floor, then made it up to her and she to him. They fell asleep there, next to the couch.

* * * *

Duncan picked up the phone, still half-asleep from staying out too late with Connor, and mildly hung-over to boot. Anyone except an immortal would have had a blinding hangover; as it was, his head hurt and his mouth tasted foul. "MacLeod."

"You're growling, dearheart. Did Connor give you some of Sunda's boom-boom again?" Aidan sounded entirely too cheerful for Duncan.

"Aidan, it's... 9:30. I crawled into bed five hours ago. Could you keep it down?" Duncan grumbled.

"Ah. All right, Dhonnchaidh, do three things for me and I promise you'll feel better. Listen, then do them in this order. Put the phone on the counter and tell Connor to come talk to me. Then get a beer and use it to wash down a few of the aspirin you keep around for Anne and Joe. Last, go stand under as hot a shower as you can stand for about fifteen minutes, and drop it to cold for a full minute before you get out. Got it?"

"Does it really work?" Duncan asked her as he reached into the refrigerator for a beer. The tone of voice could have come from a small child asking for protection against the monster under the bed.

Aidan chuckled softly and promised, "Yes, Dhonnchaidh, it works. You lived in Russia for awhile, have you just forgotten? Go get a shower and tell Connor to get out of bed and talk to me about the rest of the hair of the dog."

She heard him put the phone down, then listened with great amusement as Connor threatened both Duncan and her in Gaelic. At last Connor picked up the phone and said, "This had better be good."

"After he gets out of the shower, you get in, then come over and I'll feed you breakfast. Best offer you're likely to get today." She kept her tone cheerful and quiet.

"Heh-heh. Lunch, too. Deal?"

"Tell you what, by the time you two get over here it'll really be brunch, but I'll feed you that and dinner both. You're being bribed with strawberries in cider, cinnamon waffles with maple syrup, country ham, and anything else I think of between then and now. Deal?"

"We'll be there about 10:30 then. Did it go well, sister?"

Connor sounded more awake by the moment, but he had always handled alcohol well even for an immortal. "Come over and find out for yourself, brother. See you in a while. Connor."

"Aidan." Connor hung up and chuckled despite his headache. So, that had worked. Time enough today and tomorrow morning to catch up on news with all three of them, then head back to New York tomorrow night. Rachel would be pleased by this. Maybe this year he could even get Aidan to the Christmas party.

Aidan walked over to the tub and leaned over to kiss Methos. "You getting out anytime soon?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a good reason I should get out of a hot bath? You're a better cook than I am."

"That's a matter of opinion, but I'll give you another kiss if you'll come help." She stepped back just in time to avoid being pulled into the tub.

"Woman, come here." Methos stretched over the side of the tub. "Payment in advance, if you please, especially since it's your fault we woke up stiff this morning."

Aidan laughed out loud. "Who rolled us off the couch?"

"Who suggested the floor and then pinned me down on it?" He propped himself on the edge on his forearms.

"One kiss, then you help cook." Aidan eyed him warily and continued, "And they'll be here in forty-five minutes. You are not dragging me in that tub."

"Of course not."

The innocent look didn't inspire Aidan to trust him but she leaned in for the kiss quite happily. Somehow it didn't surprise her to end up on the edge of the tub, her clothes soaked, pinned and shivering under Methos' hands as he cheerfully inquired, "All right, shall we go to work?"

"Other than heating the cook, you mean?" But she smiled and kissed him again quickly. "Now I have to go change into dry clothes or drip all over the floors. I'll give credit where it's due. You didn't drag me into the tub."

* * * *

Duncan cursed as Connor moved his bishop into exactly the spot on the chessboard Duncan had had plans for and looked around for some kind of diversion. "Where did Aidan go?"

Methos looked up from browsing the CD racks and replied, "Downstairs. Something she needed to do on the computer today. Why? Losing that badly?"

Connor smiled, eyes lighting up. "He hates it when I figure out his strategies before they're in full swing. Makes chess much more fun."

Duncan looked at Connor and said, "I'll give you fun. Adam, see if you can salvage this mess, will you? It's your move. I'm going to go find Aidan and see if she wants to go swimming today."

"That badly, hmm? Well, let's see--"

"Now wait a second, Duncan, you're not supposed to--"

Duncan swung up from his chair and Methos sat down, already plotting against Connor's queen. Downstairs Aidan was humming softly to herself as she worked and Duncan walked over to see what she was doing. To his surprise, she was working on something in German that said it was.... "Aidan! That's a bank, what are you doing?"

She glanced up, then returned her attention to the screen. "Half a second, Duncan, this is a bit delicate." Aidan sang one of the arias from the Ring cycle softly as she worked. Duncan watched, intrigued, as she quickly worked through screen after screen, hands flying, occasionally breaking off in mid-word to bite her lip and then curse.

At last she nodded and muttered, "Right, now to...." Swiftly she worked out of the system then began to shut down the connection. It took much longer than Duncan had expected, but finally she turned in her chair and smiled. "What's up?"

"What were you doing?"

"Oh, that's simple. To the victor goes the spoils. I'm robbing Gustav's accounts blind, by way of several satellite and net relays so that I don't get caught. Before I'm done, all of his money will be scattered to various places and a couple will even be my accounts. But the World AIDS Fund got a good chunk, and UNICEF received a generous anonymous contribution, both of which I'm sure are annoying him greatly in the afterworld."

"How...." Duncan stopped, took a deep breath and tried again. "Aidan, why?"

She looked at him and her expressive face went still. "Ah. Am I correct that you disapprove?"

"You're grave-robbing, basically. Or did I miss something?" The tone of voice came out carefully level, trying very hard to be less accusatory than the words. To his credit, he succeeded.

Aidan tilted her head and studied his face, the set of his shoulders, the way he held his hands. "Pull up a chair, Duncan, and let's discuss this, shall we?" She waited until he had and then, characteristically, sliced in at her target from an unexpected angle.

"Are you angry that I'm stealing money from a man who tried to hunt me like a deer on opening day, or are you angry that I bedded Methos and not you?"

Duncan immediately held up both hands. "Stop. I am not upset about that. If anything I'm pleased for both of you. I knew he needed someone and Connor said you did. You're both happy, and that's enough for me. So drop that, all right?"

Aidan continued to watch him with that same intent stillness, then she smiled. "I believe you. I saw it when you and Connor walked in. And thank you. It's hard to find friends who believe in tromping on jealousy before it gets a chance to grow.

"So. If it isn't that, why do you object to my acquiring his money?"

"What if he had a family, heirs? Have you just bankrupted his wife?" Duncan looked exasperated more than anything else. "I mean, why should you get his money?"

"Duncan, I checked. No wife, no heirs, not even a recent will. He bragged to me before he died that he never took students; they were a waste of energy, I believe he said. And before you ask, he left his home computer on to be accessed. I have just enough left of his memories that with them and his wallet and papers, I managed to access his computer and steal bank account information, his exchanges with his stock brokers, lists of assets. I'm going to process as many over as I can, through intermediaries mostly.

"However, let's get back to the question. You're asking by what right do I do these things. Is that the crux of the matter?"

He thought about it, dark brown eyes shuttered. "Yes, I guess it is. He deserved to lose his head. Actually, he deserved a slower death than that. I wonder how many other immortals he's hunted that way?"

Aidan muttered, "Several, from the feel of that quickening."

"But why should you take his money? His house, his jewelry -- for all I know his car. Why?"

"Because, Duncan, it's only fair. The Game is a bastard way to live but the fact remains that what we put up for stakes in any challenge, any combat, is what Jefferson wrote in that lovely incendiary document of his. We wager our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor. Some of us play at sanity as well. Stengel hunted me, Duncan, planning to take my most valuable possession: my life. He tried to drive me half-mad first, to ensure he get my quickening. He lost. Why shouldn't I reallocate what he valued most? It's mine by right of combat."

She studied him, still serious. "You know as well as I do that students aren't cheap to maintain and train. We can't hold normal jobs, because we often have to up and move at short notice and for long periods of time. Granted, we're very good at long-term investments, many of us, but they're just that: long-term. If you lose them in the interim, destroyed antiques, stolen art, burnt rare edition books, government bonds for countries that no longer exist....

"Throw in on top of that that our lives tend to be very hard on belongings, between swordplay and quickenings. Our enemies make short shrift of what possessions and moneys we do have, if we don't conceal them well enough, in enough places and several different names. Should I let the Canadian government tie up his estate for years for an heir that never comes? Is it just that you see it as stealing?"

Duncan sat back and thought about that, about the reasoning and the explanations. "Do you normally do this when you defeat another immortal?"

"Honestly? Yes, when I can. It's not often that I get the chance to be so complete. I wish I did know where he left his car and not only because that will trigger the hunt for him."

"Do you ever lie to me?"

Aidan sighed, then commented, "If you have to ask the question, will you believe the answer?"

"I can't even really apologize for asking. I know I make judgments, but--"

"But you were brought up to be clan chieftain and part of the job is rendering judgment. I know. However, I was raised to be a druid for the clans. I'm supposed to secure resources, guide opinions, and see to raising the young properly. Do you really want me to grow away from that?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't. And I don't know why I asked that."

"Yes, you do. Because I asked if you wanted an honest answer, which implies I may not always have given you honesty. No, Duncan, I don't lie to any of the people currently in my house. I may dodge your questions, refuse to answer, or switch the topics without your noticing, but I don't lie to you -- or Connor, or Methos, for that matter." She slid from her chair down onto her knees in front of him and held her hands out. "Do you want oath on that? I'll give it if you like."

"No. And get off your knees, Aidan, you'll have Methos after my head." Duncan snapped it at her, upset at the subservient body positioning she had used. Then she looked up at him. The amused strength in those clear grey eyes stopped him cold and left him wondering which of them dominated at this particular point.

"Not just yet, I don't think. I seem to have your full attention now. Do you need the oath?" Clear, bell-tone amusement resonated through her voice.

"No, I don't. Did they name you flame for the way your moods shift, Aidan?" There was no way out of the chair and back upstairs until she moved; she was practically kneeling between his legs, her arms and hands resting on his thighs.

She laughed at the idea, folding her arms to rest across his legs. "I've never known, Duncan. However, to reassure you -- no, I did not take offense. And he won't go after your head over me; I'd kill you both and then argue sense into you when you revived. Do we agree to disagree on this? Or do you want to come to Toronto with me to clear out the bastard's house next week?"

"Let's agree to disagree, but I promise to think about it, all right?"

Aidan shifted up to her feet, still entirely too close for Duncan's comfort, then leaned in and kissed him. While it wasn't a lover's kiss, it was still longer and more affectionate than he had expected. "Good enough. Let me know if you want to borrow some of my books on brehon law and honor price violations."

"I will. I have a few of my own, I just hadn't thought of it in that light." Duncan shook his head. "Anyway, originally I came down to see if you wanted to do something like throw together a picnic and go swim or wander around one of the parks tonight? If we go to the beach, Joe will probably come along. Sound good?"

"It sounds wonderful. If you'll call Joe, I'll get them to help put dinner together. And Duncan?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, too. Even if we are very different."

Duncan hugged her tightly to him. "I'll try, Aidan. I'll try not to drive you two off. I don't think I can stand that again."

"Shh, easy. You won't. I won't let you and I'm more stubborn than you are, remember?"

Both of them smiled at that, walking upstairs arm in arm to drag the others off to a Midsummer's dinner. Aidan laughed at the sight of Connor's shattered chess forces, Methos' amused look, Duncan's pleased rumbling chuckle at the outcome of the game. What better companions for a feast in honor of love and valor? _Sweet Lady, All Father, hold them safe, please. The Gathering is not yet. Give us a while yet._

* * * *

All three of them sat in the airport, lounged back in the chairs as they waited for Methos' flight to be called. Aidan played idly with one of the tiny braids she had woven her hair into the night before, face set in her usual mask of mild amusement, only to feel a warm hand tilt her chin up. Duncan gave his friends a few seconds on the kiss before he decided that they might be pushing the local decency laws a bit too hard.

"If you two could finish giving the lady at the counter a free show?"

Aidan pulled her mouth free long enough to mutter, "Hush, Duncan, he'll get to you in a minute," and went back to kissing Methos as if she could slow the clock ticking toward takeoff were she only thorough enough.

Duncan's eyes widened and he flushed at the idea; then he smiled slowly, realizing that his hesitation was what Aidan wanted. So why not turn the tables on her just once? He tapped Methos on the shoulder and when the oldest immortal turned to see what it was this time Mac shrugged, smiling, and said, "My turn."

Gold-green eyes, already sleepy with desire from Aidan's send off, widened at the comment, but Methos made no attempt to push Duncan away when he leaned in for a kiss of his own. The Scot deliberately moved slowly to give his friend a chance to push him off if he didn't want to go along with this mischief meant to lighten the mood. To his surprise, Methos winked at him and then kissed him, though not nearly so passionately. Aidan's startled, choking laughter broke them off before it could get too serious and left Duncan surprised at just how much he had enjoyed kissing the other man.

"Flight 803 for New York is now boarding first class."

"Damn, that's you, love." Aidan sighed and stood up. "Try not to get into too much trouble tonight, but I think Connor said he'd gotten tickets for something at Madison Square Gardens."

Methos smiled and stood up himself, holding his carryall loosely in one hand. "He's only been back there a week and I'll only be there overnight. I think I can manage to get out of any trouble he's found, Edana." He kissed her gently on the forehead. "Take care of yourself, love, and I'll see you later this fall. You will come to Paris for a while after you finish this book, won't you?'

"Yes, somewhere around early or mid-October, I think. Definitely by Samhain, anyway. I haven't been to Paris in ages, I'm looking forward to imposing on one of you for hospitality. Duncan, when are you headed back over?"

"Oh, sometime later this summer, it'll depend on whether I teach at the university this fall." Duncan hugged Methos hard, then let go. "Go on, they're just about ready to start boarding the coach seats. Watch your head, Adam."

Methos leaned in and brushed his lips against Duncan's again. "I'll be careful, Highlander. Remember, I'm the anonymous one, not you. Call when you can, or when you need me, either of you." He turned and headed for the boarding line and stepped onto the plane, sighing to himself as he moved out of their presence. _Soon enough, I'll see them again. All three of us in one place is dangerous, we're too big a target. On the other hand, it would take a lot to take all three of us at once. That's worth considering too._

In the concourse, Aidan and Duncan glanced at each other. "In any hurry to get back into rush hour traffic, Duncan?"

They exchanged understanding looks, then sat back down to watch the plane off. "I have aikido classes to teach this evening, but don't we need to go shopping for a new car for you sometime soon? Like this morning?"

"Hmm, for that matter, if you'll cook dinner, I'll come over and install that new accounting software for the dojo and start converting files tonight. Deal?" She settled against his arm to watch the plane off.

Duncan wrapped the arm around her shoulders, feeling the empty shoulder harness under her shirt, wishing the coming Gathering didn't make it necessary for the three of them to split and rejoin like this. "Deal. So what did you send Rachel as a thank-you present?"

"I found an amber necklace on a tri-gold chain that I think will go very well with her coloring. Adam promised to deliver it. So what do they think they might want you to teach at the college? And what time do you want to go run tomorrow?"

* * * *

Joe sat on the stool in his bar, taking advantage of a quiet Monday morning to practice his guitar work before settling down to update Mac's chronicle -- and lie a bit more. The truth would stay in his private journals this time.

Mike walked in, nodded to Joe, and pulled himself a mug of coffee. "Mikhail got off at the airport, no problem. He's still pissed that he couldn't find a decent sightline to watch that fight. I think he wanted to see Gustav finally lose his head."

"Yeah, well, from some of what he said at the poker game last week, can't blame him a bit. Hell of an assignment, you have to admit. Not as bad as, say, Felicia Martens or the Kurgan, but still."

Mike doctored his coffee and sipped it judiciously. "Well, whoever offed Karl Gustav von Stengel did a good service toward the Gathering."

Joe never glanced up from the intricate arpeggio he was practicing, but he thought about that. "Picking sides, Mike?"

"We're neutral observers, right, Joe? Of course I'm not picking sides. Just like MacLeod killed Gustav. If I ever need to know something, like which side we're not really coming down on, I'm sure you won't tell me." Mike gave Joe his best 'but honestly, sir' look, but his eyes were full of mischief.

"Something I need to tell you?"

"Of course not. So, Aidan will be in like usual tomorrow? She well and truly recovered from that bout of the flu?"

Joe thought about the way the conversation had gone. "Yeah, she'll be in. Have you been over to see her place now that she's through with it for a while?"

"Not yet. She invited me over for dinner tomorrow night. You don't suppose that a classical scholar like that would have a gladius or something on the wall do you?"

Joe shrugged, and worked his way down through the arpeggios again, getting them perfect this run. "Yeah, actually she does. Mac offered her a good price for them, but since they're family heirlooms.... You know how it is. Every now and then someone appreciates tradition." He looked up at his assistant Watcher and barkeeper. "Perfectly understandable for a classics student, I'd say, wouldn't you?"

Mike raised his coffee cup. "Oh, yeah. Perfectly. Here's to family traditions and long lives."

Joe reached down and saluted with his water glass. "To long life. And good friends."  


_~ ~ ~ finis ~ ~ ~_

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Ignore this if you dislike trivia.

Characters from the Series/Movie:

Joe Dawson, Duncan MacLeod, the Horsemen, Juan Sanchez Villa-Lobos Ramirez, Connor MacLeod, Darius, Rachel Ellenstein, Amanda Darrieux, Hugh Fitzcairn, Cassandra, the Kurgan, Alexa Bond, Mike Barret, Sunda Kastagir, Xavier St. Cloud, Jakob &amp; Irena Galati, Anne Lindsey, Jack Shapiro, James Horton, Rich Ryan/Richard Redstone, Little Deer, Slan Quince, Felicia Martens, Peter Canis

Characters from my demented mind:

Aidan Logan/Edana ni Emer/Electra Mycenas, Karl Gustav von Stengel/Hans Clausewitz, Methos' identity as Robert Morgan, Danielle St. Vir, Elizabeth the Healer, Adrianna of Constantinople, Mikhail Pashkov, the entire Armenian crowd (Arslan, Hajji, etc.)

All right, now that that's done (well, Joe will gossip about immortals and then you have to give credit where it's due....): General disclaimers now, and specifics after that.

All songs, books, and alcohols listed by name do in fact exist and most of them I highly recommend. Aidan is taking on a mind of her own, and no one can vouch for Methos' taste, so I refuse to take full responsibility.

All fight techniques listed do work, for which I thank my husband. He had no idea that I would consider a black belt a good enough reason to have to help with this.

Yes, Aidan does seem to do things in threes -- what do you expect of an unrepentant Celt?

Last and most important: magic. If you don't believe it exists, in one form or another, why are you reading these? There are several different opinions on whether there were Druids, what they could actually do, and whether there are any left. The opinions expressed in these stories are Aidan's, not necessarily mine, but the Damn Druid does seem to agree with her on quite a bit. As for ceremonial magic, it's interesting stuff: involuted, formal, precise, maddening, and occasionally quite potent. Be careful if you're going to try it. It's not for the 'throw it in the pot' style cook or practitioner.

Specifics:

1 Led Zeppelin could play some down and dirty Delta blues when they wanted. Aidan is very fond of 'When the Levee Breaks' off their fourth album.

2 _Roman de la Rose_ is a medieval French allegory on the nature of love, still read and studied in history classes.

3 'You Can Leave Your Hat On' is a classic Joe Cocker song just about guaranteed to produce sensual dancing.

4 '_Honi soit qui mal y pense_' is French for 'Evil to he who evil thinks'. This is the motto of the Garter Knights of Great Britain.

5 'Traveling Riverside Blues' was written by Robert Johnson, but I first heard it on the Led Zeppelin boxed set.

6 'Mo chridhe' is Gaelic for 'my own'.

7 The Heinlein book Joe referred to and argued from was _Time Enough for Love_.

8 For information on ancient historical attitudes toward brotherhood, I recommend _Same Sex Unions in Pre-Modern Europe_ by John Boswell.

9 The Fleetwood Mac song that Mike likes is 'Gold Dust Woman' off of _Rumors_.

10 Dhonnchaidh is simply Gaelic for Duncan, and literally means 'dark warrior'.

11 Yes, the numbers for the Gypsies slaughtered in the concentration camps is accurate, if rarely mentioned. The Germans involved interned and killed political dissidents of any race or faith, homosexuals, Jews, Gypsies, and anyone else they could manage to justify or legislate.

12 'Dead Man's Party' is by Oingo Boingo; 'The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald' is by Gordon Lightfoot; 'Dannyboy' is by Anonymous so far as I know. (It's a traditional song at Irish wakes.)

13 'Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war' is from _Julius Caesar_, Act III, scene i, by Shakespeare.

14 Yes, you can knock someone out the way Duncan took Aidan out, and if you know what he did, congratulations. If you don't, I'm not going to enlighten you. It's a fairly lethal variety of martial arts which will give you a good starting point to hunt if you really want to spend a few years studying it.

15 St. Jude is the patron saint of lost causes.

16 Duncan dated an ER doctor named Anne Lindsey for a while.

17 Annie Lennox was singing 'Primitive' off of _Diva_.

18 'M'chara' is also Gaelic and means something similar to 'my friend'.

19 'our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honors' -- Thomas Jefferson, the Declaration of Independence.

20 Brehon law is the old Celtic rules of blood and honor price, arbitrated by druid-trained brehons. They seem to have been something between arbiters, lawyers, and judges.

21\. Last: finished 8/1997. Wow. I've been doing this a while.


End file.
